


concomitant

by goldearring (leoandsnake)



Series: 28/29 [7]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguments, Awkwardness, Behind the scenes drama, Bisexual Harry, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Business Meeting, Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon fic, Coming Out, Drinking, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Fluff, Harry pov, Hospitals, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Jealousy, Liam POV, Long-Term Relationship(s), Louis POV, M/M, OT4, Oral Sex, Romantic Gestures, Show Business, Sick Character, Smoking, VMAs, Zayn angst, band meeting, business discussions, hiatus blues, liam bottoms, liam meddling with zouis, make-up sex, ot5 awkwardness, very slight daddy kink, zayn pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoandsnake/pseuds/goldearring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry comes out unexpectedly, causing a blowup between managements that leads Liam and Louis to reveal their relationship to Modest. The boys attend the VMAs and have a run-in with Zayn. Liam has a minor medical kerfluffle that scares Louis and causes Zayn to pop up a second time the same night. Jeff Azoff tries to poach the rest of 1D, and Louis gives Liam a significant gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i'm posting this in chapters just because i wrote it that way, but it's fully written, no worries! not a wip. approx 40k. i'll probably post a chapter a day for the next two and a half weeks

@lansdelreya: harry when you said ages ago its not that important for your partner to be a girl, did that mean youre gay? Love you ♥♥

3:04 AM - 20 Aug 2016

 

@Harry_Styles: Bisexual. All the love. H

3:23 AM - 20 Aug 2016

 

/

 

_Ring._

_Ring._

Louis grunts and rolls over. He’s barely awake, and at first only processes a handful of things: he’s sweaty, he has to take a piss, and Liam is taking up too much of the bed.

He puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder and shoves him to the side. Liam makes an unhappy noise in his sleep at the same time as Louis’ phone rings again, vibrating itself across the bedside table.

Louis rubs his eyes and picks up.

“‘Lo?” he says. There’s a sticky feeling in the back of his throat and he swallows and coughs.

“Hey,” says Harry’s voice.

It must be dead early. There’s no light whatsoever coming from behind the curtains.

“Harry?” he mumbles, puzzled. “What’s going on, what’s wrong?”

It’s a moment before Harry responds, laughing a rich, deep laugh that Louis hasn’t heard from him in awhile. “I’ve just done something,” he says.

His voice is full of light and air, like a room with the windows thrown open.

Louis sits up, suddenly more wakeful. His palms begin to itch with unpleasant premonition.

“What’ve you done?” he says.

Harry says nothing. Louis can hear him fiddling with something in the background, then the sound of typing. He takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Harry,” he says. “C’mon, lad, what’ve you done?”

Liam stirs behind him, restless in the hot summer night, roused by the urgency in Louis’ voice.

“I think it’s best,” Harry says in his ponderous way, “if you just have a look at Twitter.”

Louis closes his eyes, as if to protect himself from whatever it is.

“What have you done,” he repeats for a third time, his voice reedy and small.

“Oh my God,” Liam says, behind him.

Louis spins around. He hadn’t realized Liam was awake.

Liam, with his cheeks pink and his hair mussed, has sat up. He’s staring with glassy and disbelieving eyes at his phone. “Holy fucking shit,” he says.

Louis tugs it out of his hand.

The room swirls around him as he reads the tweet, again and again, uncomprehending. _Bisexual. Bisexual. Bisexual._

_All the love._

_H._

“Haz,” he says into the phone, his voice icy with horror.

“Right,” Harry says breezily. “So, ah, we’ve all got a meeting in an hour. That was what I called to say.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Liam head to the band meeting, discussing the inevitable fallout from Harry's coming out.

“I can’t believe this,” Liam says in the car. His voice still has a ragged, sleepy quality to it. Louis looks over at him in the darkness and feels a pang of fondness for him. He reaches out to hold Liam’s hand and Liam squeezes his.

“After all of the NDAs,” Liam continues. “After everything. Six years. It’s insane. D’you think Jeff told him to drop it this way? Not even in an interview or anything, just out there on Twitter.”

Louis shrugs. “I didn’t get that impression on the phone,” he says, yawning and stretching his legs. “He sounded very odd and like he didn’t plan it. Maybe Jeff gave him a standing order of like, go on, drop it whenever y’like, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“This is bad for you as well,” Liam says, pointedly.

Louis bounces his leg, nodding. His chest is tight and tension is developing behind his eyes. “I know, Payno, I know.”

He rubs the back of Liam’s hand with his thumb, tracing circles over his 29 tattoo.

“And I don’t want to step on your toes here,” Liam says, “or Harry’s. I know you’ve like… got loads of your own strategies on dealing with this. It’s just, y’know, this coinciding with a time where you appear to be really very single.”

He and Liam decided after the Jenner incident that beyond the occasional appearances at clubs, they wouldn’t try to force an image with women. They’ve planted a few select stories: Liam’s been linked with a member of Juicy J’s entourage, and for a while Louis was rumoured to be dating a girl who was actually dating Oli. The three of them often went out together, and Louis would awkwardly cling to her as they passed paps. She and Oli have been on the skids lately, so Louis has been deftly making sure people know he’s focused on his writing. Liam has posted several snaps of him fooling around on guitar or keyboard, or engrossed in a laptop and headphones.

“I can’t believe no one’s twigged to the fact that it’s always just the two of us,” Louis said at one point, looking over Liam’s shoulder at Instagram comments. “How many jam sessions do they think it takes us to get a song concept down?”

“Maybe they think we’ve gotten a bit shit now that we’re on break,” Liam said, grinning.

Louis has always known that Harry coming out will be disastrous for all of the work they’ve done to distance themselves from the Larry problem. He’s tried not to let that colour his feelings about it; he knows that it is an absolute necessity for Harry’s well-being.

“What’re people saying on Twitter?” he says to Liam, who’s hidden Louis’ phone from him.

Liam hesitates.

“Oh, come on...”

Liam brings their hands to his mouth and kisses Louis’ knuckles. The car rolls to a smooth stop right as he does, and Liam drops his hand.

“For one, that always in my heart tweet’s just cracked two and a half million retweets,” he says.

Louis averts his eyes. “Aye, ‘s’what I figured.”

Paddy opens the door and peers in at them. “All right in there, boys?” he says. “We’re here. Meeting’s going to be on the fifth floor.”

Louis hops out of the car in his sock feet. The impulsivity that thrums quietly in him at all times rears its head.

“Someone should have called the paps,” he says. “Me and you getting out of the same car right now? ’S pretty deadly to the Larry angle.”

Liam slides across the bench seats and leans out of the car to whap him gently on the back of the head. “Don’t start thinking like that,” he warns him, and then he gets out and presses into Louis’ space, lips brushing his ear.

“Don’t cut off our nose to spite your face,” he whispers.

“Okay, mum,” Louis murmurs back.

The lobby is gleaming, gold-panelled and silent, with only a lone security guard at the front desk. Simon Jones and Lisa Wolfe wait for them by the doors, shoulder to shoulder, as if to present a united front. Their faces are sallow rictuses of exhaustion and stress.

“Hello there,” Lisa says, cracking a grim smile at the sight of them. “Who let you out of the house without shoes, Tomlinson?”

“I told him to put some on,” Liam defends himself.

Louis notices Hattie on a couch near the window, tapping away on her phone; at Liam’s comment, she frowns in a way that makes foreboding swell in Louis’ stomach.

“No time for shoes,” Louis exclaims, putting a false note of cheerful mischief in his voice as he pushes past all of them toward the elevator. He feels a pull toward Harry that’s preternatural in its strength. It’s primal, magnetic, the way he feels about his sisters. He feels somehow absolutely sure that Harry is in need of his presence right now.

The four of them crowd in after him, and they ride up in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OT4 reunite, and the boys settle in for a meeting that quickly turns sour. Louis and Liam fess up to their relationship to their management and reps.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Louis stalks out in his stocking feet, fleet-footed.

“523,” Lisa calls, as they follow on his heels.

523 is to the left and down at the end of the hallway. Louis throws open the door to find a disheveled business suite, lavishly decorated in notes of cream and gold but wildly askew, with an excess of chairs, and three Keurigs of different and clashing colors all sitting atop a buffet table that is otherwise unoccupied.

A long conference table takes up the middle of the room, and two laptops sit on it, waiting. Between this and several half-empty cups of coffee, Louis gets the impression that this has been command central for hours now.

Harry and Niall stand by the window, deep in conversation. Niall looks deeply jetlagged; he’s got his glasses on and is holding onto Harry’s arm like it’s keeping them both standing.

Harry looks up when Louis appears in the doorway.

Louis cuts across the room as fast as he can and embraces him roughly. They cling to each other for a few long moments.

“Louis,” Harry finally murmurs. “I can’t breathe.”

“Tough,” Louis says. Niall laughs and joins in, patting them both on the back at the same time.

From behind them he hears Liam say, “Oi, are we hugging?” and then a moment later he feels Liam’s arms close around them all, powerful and protective. Louis closes his eyes, his face buried in Harry’s shoulder. He loves his boys.

Lisa clears her throat.

“We should let them start,” Harry says, reluctantly.

“Hey,” Louis whispers. “You didn’t do anything wrong, all right?”

“We love you, Harry,” Liam says.

“Course we do,” Niall says bracingly. “Everyone loves Harry.”

Harry makes a nose that’s halfway between a laugh and a sniffle. “Okay, business time.”

They break apart, all taking efforts to resume their composure. Harry dabs at his eyes.

“Have I got the right room?” a new voice cuts in.

Louis turns around to see Jeff Azoff walking in, blithely ignoring the bitter looks directed at him by Lisa, Hattie and Simon.

“I see I have,” Jeff says, a picture of cheer. “Harry! Congratulations are in order.”

“Are they?” Lisa says sharply.

Jeff gives her a bland smile. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”

Lisa takes the head of the table. Niall and Harry sit with Harry at Jeff’s right arm, and Niall at Harry’s. Louis and Liam go simultaneously to the buffet table to make themselves coffee. They exchange loaded glances as they wait.

 _Don’t let them make a run at Harry,_ Louis mouths.

Liam screws up his face quizzically. Louis rolls his eyes. _Protect Harry_ , he mouths. Liam nods emphatically, and touches Louis’ arm to affirm.

“Are we quite done over there?” Simon says, looking over his glasses at them. Everyone turns to look at them.

“Keurigs, they take a mo to warm up,” Louis says, blasé. “Y’know.”

Simon and Hattie exchange a look.

“So what exactly have you gotten done so far?” Louis says, folding his arms. “I’d be interested to hear.”

Harry, who’s turned to look at Louis, drops his head to hide his smile.

“HJPR was waiting on Jeff’s input in order to actually release a statement,” Simon says.

“So, nothing,” Louis says under his breath. Liam lets out a soft breath of a laugh.

“My input?” Jeff says, and he leans forward.

Louis pours his coffee and sits directly across from Harry. Liam joins him a moment later, sitting at his right arm as he often does in meetings. Louis is struck by how well the table wordlessly spells out allegiances and power dynamics.

“Yes,” Simon says, obviously confused, and repeats “your input,” waving his hands to emphasize it as if the problem was that Jeff didn’t hear him.

Jeff glances at Harry and then back at Simon.

“Your plan, Jeff,” Lisa says, tapping her pen hard on the table. She sits sideways, Blackberry clenched in her hand, her legs folded and her posture broad and imposing. Louis recognizes this as power sitting. “Your _raison d'etre_. Your marketing ideas, your defenses against the Larry problem. How this allows him to possibly corner a market that Zayn can’t…”

Louis watches Harry, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of his and Zayn’s growing rivalry.

“... Why it was a good idea to drop this right now, when his solo album won’t be released until 2017, and as a solo artist he hasn’t even signed with another label, yet.”

Jeff drums his fingers on the table. He seems to be hiding something, or at least hedging. Harry keeps seeking out his gaze, but Jeff doesn’t look at him.

“What does Harry living his life honestly have to do with his solo album?” he finally says.

“Oh, come on,” Louis says without really meaning to.

All eyes are suddenly on him, then. The air conditioning vent is blowing directly down onto him; his mouth is dry.

He doesn't want to take Modest’s side, nor Jeff’s side, nor HJPR’s side. He wants to take Harry's side, and so he looks across the table at him.

Harry seems on edge. His earlier lightness of spirit has been swallowed up under nerves and fear. He looks at Louis intently, wide-eyed, looking for all the world like a doe in the woods.

Louis looks to Liam at his right. Liam gazes back at him, strong and sure, his expression unwavering.

“I just mean to say,” Louis continues, “clearly this is going to affect his album, and the band, and I think Lisa is frightened that if Harry's individual image diverges too sharply from ours, that it's going to cut into album sales when we join up together again in a year.”

Louis takes a deep breath.

“I'd like to emphasize, I don't give a fuck,” he says. “I'm sorry. We. _We_ don't give a fuck.”

Harry gives him a private and brief smile.

“And you don't have to,” Lisa says breezily. “That's _our_ job.”

“I'd like to talk about Larry, actually,” Simon cuts in. “If we had known Harry was going to do this, on our end we could have taken steps to distance Louis from him.”

“Larry isn't the problem it used to be,” Lisa says, rubbing her temples. “I'd like to continue talking about band image, as we've got them _all_ here, not just Louis and Harry.”

“Well that’s fine for you, Lisa,” Simon snaps. He’s clearly exhausted and off his game. Lisa looks at him with surprise.

“All you've got to take back to your boss is album and ticket sales,” he continues. “And I've got to be the one to explain why, years later, we’ve still got conspiracy theorists writing meandering fanfiction in _Vanity Fair_!”

Jeff is watching this all with undisguised amusement, which catches the attention of Lisa, who finally rounds on him.

“Did you tell Harry to pull the trigger on this whenever he liked?” she demands.

An uneasy silence falls as they all wait for the answer. Jeff laces his hands together and examines them.

“One of the reasons Harry came to me, as we all know,” he says, “was a desire to free himself from your hamfisted and baffling attempts at continuing to closet someone indefinitely in the year 2016, when the band is not even currently together.”

This drops like a nuclear payload. Louis watches Hattie, the least experienced of the three of them and the most lacking in a poker face. She's looking at Jeff with open dislike. Simon and Lisa have turned to each other in a restrained show of shock, and Niall, cloistered away in the seat furthest away from the head of the table, lets out a small snort.

Louis and Liam turn their heads simultaneously to grin at him. Harry stares intently at the table, subtly fighting a smile.

“And,” Jeff continues, “I am and always have been of the belief that the Larry problem is in part the making of Modest. If you hadn't closeted Harry so ineffectively and for so long, perhaps certain fans would not have smelled a rat.”

“ _Oh_!” Lisa scoffs, placing her hands firmly on the table. “That is a disgusting and absurd accusation. We are not in any way responsible for delusional fans who have no boundaries or common sense.”

“And you call your customers delusional,” Jeff exclaims. “Interesting!”

“What are you even doing here, Jeff?” Simon says, his voice flat. “I thought you were in Los Angeles?”

“If you’re insinuating I knew Harry was going to do this tonight, you can save your breath,” Jeff says. “I have plenty of UK-based artists in my roster, I’m here often, and Harry’s often in LA. It just worked out in _your_ favor that we’re both here right now.”

“Our _favor_?” Simon repeats, with a baffled look.

“You know how hard Harry’s worked to pave the way for his coming out,” Lisa snaps. “Years and years of work.”

“And now the work is done,” Jeff says. “Voila! Not so hard, is it?”

“He knew what he was signing on for with us!”

“With all due respect, how could he?” Jeff says. “He was sixteen!”

“Oi,” Louis says, much louder than intended. “You know, Harry's _here_. He's sitting right at this table, in fact.”

“Louis,” Lisa says. “You do realize you’ll suffer the effects of this decision.”

Louis spreads his hands. “Like I’ve said for over a year now,” he says. “Harry being freely out and dating other men in the public eye might actually be the final nail in the Larry coffin. But none of you wanted to believe that.”

“It’s overly optimistic, Louis,” Simon says, sighing.

“I think he’s right, actually,” Harry rejoinders in his slow voice.

They all turn to him. He studiously examines his fingernails.

“Harry,” Lisa says, desperation creeping into her voice. “You were on board for so long.”

Harry shrugs lightly.

“You do know what you’ve done here?” she says. “You may have torpedoed your solo album before it released. If you’d dropped this a month prior, a week prior, you could have capitalized on the controversy --”

“It’s my _life_ ,” Harry mutters, his eyebrows knit. “Not controversy.”

She continues, ignoring him. “Now the dust from this will well have settled, but the effects will be done. Everyone will expect a specific message to the album. You’ve lost a massive chunk of audience by default. You’ll gain gay fans, but lose young ones. If this solo album is a flop, you’ll just be putting money in Zayn’s pocket and simultaneously endangering future One Direction record sales --”

Harry takes in a deep breath.

“Stop,” Louis instructs her. “Enough.”

“Now, Lisa,” Jeff says, smiling. “Could you be any more grim?”

“I’m speaking the truth,” Lisa says, her eyes flashing. “Dropping this news right now makes absolutely no long-term sense.”

“She’s right,” Simon says. “There’s no significance to this timeframe at all. We’re in a dry spell with One Direction news. Louis hasn’t even got the judging job on the X Factor this year to keep him in the public eye --”

“Fuck off,” Louis spits. This is a sore spot for him, and Simon is well aware of it.

“-- we’ve got, what, an appearance at the VMAs in a week?” Simon says. “And Zayn will be there as well, continuing to push the sex angle --”

“That’s another thing,” Lisa says, “that he splintered off, gained on us by a year, and effectively robbed us of the plan we had for you, Harry, to move you solidly into the arena of mature, sexual, millennial sound. Bisexuality is about as in line with that as it gets, but now songs about sex are going to draw unflattering comparisons to Zayn --”

Jeff lets out a loud laugh. “First of all, Harry’s no longer managed by Modest, so let us worry about that one, huh?”

“If Harry’s solo career gets off to a shaky start,” Lisa snaps, “it affects the rest of One Direction, who are still managed by Modest.”

Louis takes this opportunity to wield his own power against Lisa, by staring at her with a neutral expression. She looks back at him, and after a few moments, becomes visibly nervous.

“Louis,” she says, uneasily. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, his body thrumming with adrenaline. His leg is bouncing under the table. Liam puts a hand on his knee, stilling him.

Lisa’s expression hardens. “What is this?” she demands of Jeff.

Jeff spreads his hands and shakes his head.

“Louis,” Simon says. “This isn’t funny.”

“Are you poaching my clients?” Lisa demands.

“I haven’t ever spoken with Louis in a business capacity,” Jeff says, and he chuckles.

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m laughing because it’s funny to me how paranoid you are,” Jeff says with a grin. “I’m laughing because this meeting is a joke, and we haven’t actually gotten anything done except baseless attacks on me and Harry.”

“I’ve gotten a few things done, while you’ve all been talking,” Hattie says, continuing to tap at her phone without looking up. “I secured Louis a date for the VMAs.”

“No,” Louis says loudly. “No.”

“Louis, don’t argue right now,” Simon says, closing his eyes and rubbing them, pushing his glasses up his forehead. “Please just let us work.”

Louis’ body practically vibrates with anger. He can’t stand sitting in this chair, in this room. He looks at Harry, who seems to have checked out entirely and is staring into middle space with empty eyes.

“If you’re using Harry to lure the rest of them in, that’s disgusting, Jeff,” Lisa says. “We treated Harry very well and parted with him on good terms.”

Harry shakes his head ever so slightly.

“I think you said the same thing about Zayn, right?” Jeff says, sitting up and leaning forward. He wears a grim smile. “And yet he still left, didn’t he? Doesn’t it strike you as odd, that these artists you treat so well keep wanting to leave? Your most bankable artists, at that?”

“And in your hands, who’s to say how bankable Harry even is, now?” Lisa snaps. “After this ill-timed, unplanned admission?”

Silence falls.

“We've just gotten a request for a statement from TMZ,” Simon says drily. “That brings the grand total of publications that have reached out up to forty-nine. I’m sure your in-house reps have maybe triple that, Jeff?”

Harry’s expression flickers.

“Harry shouldn’t have to keep defending himself,” Louis says sharply. “He’s not on trial, here. He’s not your fucking client, either.”

“Yeah, stop coming after him,” Liam adds. “What's done is done. It was his decision. This was always going to be a difficult bit of PR for all of us.”

“All right, mum and dad,” Simon says, in an unpleasant way that's uncharacteristic of him.

Louis looks to the ceiling, drumming his fingers on the table. He tries to keep his temper even.

“Can we just get some actual work done, Simon,” Liam says flatly.

“There's not much we can even do,” Simon continues, spreading his hands in defeat. “Just spin. We can't possibly bury the story.”

“I don't want you to _bury_ the story,” Harry says suddenly, looking up. “I didn’t tweet that by accident. No one outed me. And you're not my rep anymore, Simon.”

“No, but once again, this affects the band’s image,” Simon says, unpleasantly. “So… all right. The spin for the rest of them is, they knew, were supportive, were just waiting for you to come out in any way you chose. We've got to emphasize that it was a privacy decision for you to stay closeted, not a marketing one…”

“How convenient for Modest,” Louis says drily.

“Yes, well,” Lisa says. “This business is not a meritocracy, Louis.”

“You know, you could have even told your reps you wanted it out within the week,” Hattie says to Harry. She looks at him pointedly. “They would have gotten you an interview in any magazine you liked, you could have dropped it in the interview, casual as you like.”

Harry shifts in his seat. “Didn't want to do it that way,” he murmurs. “I wanted everyone to know it came from my heart, that it was real.” His eyes are large and shining. He looks up at Louis, appealing to him.

Louis turns to Liam. Liam looks back at him, no longer sleepy but alert, with his jaw tight and his posture tense.

Louis feels like he’s on the precipice of something huge, like his world is about to collapse in on itself, but looking at Liam, he feels no fear.

“D’you want to go ahead an’…” he says, and lets himself trail off, knowing Liam will understand him.

Liam’s face moves from confusion, to surprise, to quiet contemplation. He glances across the table at Harry.

Louis stares at him, trembling, waiting for deliverance. 

Liam looks back at him and smiles. It’s a beautiful smile, one that spreads steadily across his face and opens up his features.

“Yeah, Tommo,” he says, his voice warm. “I really do.”

“What are you two going on about?” Simon says.

Louis’ heart is thumping and his mouth is dry. He turns back to the table at large, but finds that for once in his life, he's speechless.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Niall rouse from his exhausted fugue state and start paying sharp attention. Harry is watching them like a hawk, his eyes dark and brows furrowed with interest.

“We've got something to come clean about,” Liam says, and he sits up in his chair and stretches his arm out so it’s over the back of Louis’. He brushes his thumb reassuringly over Louis’ back. Louis takes in a deep breath. Spots are swimming in front of his eyes.

Jeff looks on with undisguised interest. Lisa looks as if she's ready to interrupt him at a moment's notice.

“Me and Liam,” he says. “Liam and I…”

“Louis, if there’s a business discussion we need to have, it can be done privately,” Lisa says, her voice ringing through the room like a door buzzer.

Louis smiles wanly. “Not a business discussion,” he says.

Suddenly his nerves dissipate, and he’s filled with a sense of peaceful purpose. It's as if his next steps are laid out for him and he has no choice but to take them, nor any desire not to. He doesn’t feel relief, or the pleasure of mischief and going against the grain. He doesn’t feel the thrill of adrenaline at casting them both into danger. Louis is filled with solemnity. He is duty-bound; he is destined.

He catches Harry’s eye and winks at him. A smile slowly breaks over Harry’s face.

“We haven’t got all day,” Simon says wearily.

“We’re in love,” Liam suddenly says from beside him, his voice tense but forceful. 

His hand slips off of the back of Louis’ seat to caress Louis’ lower back, where his tattoo is. His voice is warm and proud, and thick with affection. Louis loves hearing it.

“Excuse me?” Simon says, and laughs.

“Not funny,” says Lisa, already dismissive.

“I quite agree,” Louis says, experiencing deja vu. He hates that everyone always thinks they're joking about this.

Hattie turns to them and squints, sizing them up.

Louis puts his palms together. “We’re together,” he says calmly. “Like, coupled together. Have been for quite a while now.”

“Louis,” Lisa says, her voice heavy with exasperation.

He turns and looks her dead in the eye. He knows there’s no mirth on his face whatsoever. She looks at him, and her expression shifts slightly.

“Don’t be absurd,” Simon says. “Wasting our time isn’t going to protect Harry, you know.”

“Wait,” Lisa says, her gaze boring into Louis’ eyes. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, clearing his throat, feeling light-headed. He tries to focus on Liam’s touch.

“We’re together,” Liam says, and he sits forward but doesn’t move his arm from Louis. “ _I’ll_ say it again. I’ll say it a million times.”

“I’ve never heard anything more stupid,” Simon says. “Come on, Lisa, they’re having a laugh. They love pranks, and they’re clearly not happy with how the meeting is going. Don’t give this more attention than it merits.”

“I know them,” Lisa says, and she looks sharply at Simon. “Enough to know when they’re joking. Look at them, do they look like they’re joking?”

Simon leans forward and squints at them over his glasses. “No, Louis looks like he might cry, but I assume he’s tired.”

“They are together,” Harry says, soft and slow.

Jeff whips his head around, turning toward Harry in awe.

“I’m sorry?” Simon says, his tone harder than it was a moment ago.

“They are,” Harry says. “They’ve been together since last November.”

“Yeah, ’s true,” Niall pipes up from the back. “I can vouch.”

Some color drains from Simon’s face. He turns to Lisa, and they exchange panicked looks. Hattie is staring at Louis.

“All of that shit you gave me!” she exclaims. “All of the stubbornness! I didn’t know what to make of it --”

Louis drops his head and gives a nod of corroboration. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this bone-tired.

“Hattie,” Simon says, sounding panicked. “What do you mean? What are you saying? God, has everyone lost their heads?”

“Holy shit,” Jeff murmurs, very quietly. “Holy --”

“Get Jeff out of here,” Lisa shouts, and stands. “Paddy!”

Paddy pokes his head in the door from the hallway, where he’s waiting with Harry’s security. “Ma’am?”

“Escort Mr Azoff to his car,” she says, wild-eyed.

“Yeah?” Paddy says. He looks to Liam, puzzled. “I can, but…”

“Is there a need for that, Lisa?” Jeff says. “Jesus. We still have things to discuss. Harry wants me here…”

“I do, I do want him here,” Harry insists. “I’m sorry, but if he leaves, I’ll leave.”

“Give us a moment, Patrick, I’m sorry,” Lisa says. The door shuts firmly behind them.

“Explain what you were saying, Hattie,” Simon demands.

Liam is stroking Louis’ back through his shirt in familiar circular motions. Louis reaches down and places a hand on Liam’s thigh, squeezing it.

“Stop that,” Lisa says. She looks to be on the verge of a total meltdown. “Stop that!”

“We can’t touch each other, now?” Louis says, his voice cracking from lack of sleep and overuse. He looks up at her, bleary-eyed. “Either you believe us or you don’t.”

“I can’t!” Lisa cries, still standing, hovering awkwardly above the table.

Hattie sits, shaking her head to herself while scrolling frantically through her iPhone. Louis wonders if she’s looking at her texts with him.

“Come on,” Simon says, shaken. “Let’s not lose our heads. These are two heterosexual boys who are good friends. They’re trying to distract us, Lisa, let’s be professional, let’s not be undone by two twenty-somethings, good God --”

“I know when Louis is serious,” Lisa says. “I know when Liam is serious. I know Harry doesn’t put up with this sort of thing --”

Simon makes an exasperated noise high in his throat. He spreads his hands incredulously. “Lisa! Come, now!”

But Lisa is undeterred. She stares at Louis, her eyes round and clear, her hands on her hips.

“Simon, they’ve lived together for most of the year,” Hattie says, her voice rising in alarm. “Both of them have been blowing me off about getting girlfriends for months and months now.”

“Shauna!” Simon bellows. “That Shauna girl! Louis was dating her just a month ago.”

“No, Oli was dating her,” Louis says, firmly. “Ask Hattie, she knows.”

Simon rounds on Hattie, who looks at him with queasy desperation.

“It’s true,” she says, pressing her hands to her eyes.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Simon says, in anger and disgust. “This is ludicrous. How would this happen without us knowing? It can’t be true, you couldn’t have. We know everything --”

“Clearly not,” Jeff says in amusement.

“I need to speak with you out in the hall,” Lisa says to Simon, gripping the table like she wants to snap a hunk of it off. “Both of you.”

Hattie jumps to her feet, arms folded, making eye contact with no one. Simon rises slowly, grimacing under his mustache.

The three of them file out into the hall like they're headed to the gallows. Louis feels his jaw relax slightly at their departure, and his posture eases.

Niall lets out a giant sigh. “Holy God,” he says.

“Yeah,” Louis concurs.

“Coulda gone better, that,” Niall says, leaning forward and peering at them.

Liam appears to be shell-shocked. He continues to rub Louis’ shoulder, eyes furrowed, looking glassy-eyed into space. Harry watches him in concern; Jeff is staring at them with a glee that borders on obscene.

Louis lights a cigarette.

“Haz,” he says, blowing smoke up at the ceiling. “I think your manager is about to ejaculate himself.”

“Ew,” Harry mouths, making a face. Jeff laughs heartily.

“Well, I mean, bravo, guys,” he says. “I'm assuming this is actually true, right?”

“Of course it's true,” Liam suddenly snaps at him, surprising everyone. “That'd be the worst joke in the world, considering what Harry's going through.”

“It's a shock, is all,” Jeff says, spreading his hands in a display of innocence.

“Sort of was to us, too,” Louis says. He hears how cross he sounds. “I mean, we didn’t exactly plan to do this tonight, or anything.”

“No, we did not,” Liam says, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Not at all.”

It feels to Louis as if the walls are closing in on them. He stands up and walks around, smoking furiously, choking down nicotine. He stands at the window, looking down at the streets of London. Hardly any cars are going by.

“Louis,” Harry calls out.

Louis turns around. Everyone’s looking at him, in various states of worry.

He returns to the table and sits back down, rubbing at the back of his neck. He feels distinctly itchy and ill at ease; he fidgets continually in his chair. Liam puts a reassuring hand on his thigh and glances at him. His own face is crumpled with fear and apprehension. They lock eyes as if to ask each other what they’ve just done.

Jeff leans forward. “I know this isn’t the best time,” he says, and he sounds genuine about it, which alleviates some of Louis’ irritation. “But are you looking to make a change in management?”

Louis knew this was coming. He heaves a gusty sigh. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Yeah, please, Jeff,” Harry says softly, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so tired, I just want to go home and get in bed…”

Jeff puts his hands up. “Right, right. No, I’m sorry, guys. I’ll save it for another time. I’m gonna go out in the hallway and see what they’re saying.”

He pats Harry on the back and gets up to go.

“Oi, I might be open t’ new management,” Niall calls after him. The door shuts. He laughs. “Ah, they never care. I could do anythin’, honestly.”

“Poor Neil,” Harry says with a grin. “You're like the middle child.”

“Right, don't matter whose girlfriend I fuck…”

Louis snorts as he ashes his cigarette.

“If you had it off with Glenne, you might get some attention from Jeff,” Harry says, smiling wickedly.

Liam laughs, finally. “Wow!”

Harry shrugs. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Right,” Louis mutters. “Haz, ‘m sorry… We’re sorry. I just wanted to protect you and I feel like we’ve taken this from you.”

Harry smiles a mannerly, faraway smile. He clears his throat and seems to think for awhile before he speaks.

“Um,” he finally says. “I’m going to get plenty of attention for this... good and bad. Taking the heat from me with Modest, who aren’t even my management… you haven’t taken anything from me, I promise.”

Louis nods and closes his eyes briefly in relief. “Right. Good.”

“We just want you to be happy, Harry,” Liam says. “We just want you to be free.”

Harry smiles again. He seems ethereal and light again, like he did on the phone.

“I’m free,” he says, simply. “Now I’m just frightened about what’ll come of you two.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Niall says. Louis leans forward and grins at him.

“Right?” Niall continues, giving Louis a conspiratorial wink. “If we’ve got to leave… our arses can leave. I can live with it. I don’t even know if Modest is the best choice, goin’ forward, y’know? Maybe we stayed outta habit. We’re overworked, we’re tired. Harry’s already gone. You guys want to go? We’re gone too.”

“You haven’t got to come with us, Niall,” Louis reminds him.

Liam, still staring straight ahead, reaches out and grabs Louis’ hand. Louis squeezes his, and leans forward, resting his forehead against Liam’s shoulder. Liam turns to kiss him gently on the head.

“I know. But I’ll come,” Niall says, his voice warm and steady. Louis looks up to see him put his hand up, like he’s pledging. “I’ll come.”

“D’you think they’ll tell Simon and Ann Marie?” Harry says, surveying Louis carefully.

Louis thinks of Simon Cowell, how he backstabbed him at the last second by keeping Louis Walsh on the X Factor and expected him to be a good sport about it like always. He wonders if Simon realized what he was doing when he took an ambitious, vindictive, clever little boy and made him a man in his own image.

 _We can try to get you on next year,_ Simon said. _I really thought I'd be able to do this for you, Louis. Just hold on. Take one for the team._

Louis thinks gleefully of how Simon would never expect him to leave Modest; of how Simon has always thought that there was no path for Louis to be a mogul in his image other than to be taken under his wing and kept there indefinitely. He has no idea how much people like Louis, how many important industry figures Louis has been courting.

He has no idea that Louis has all the tools he needs to operate without him, outside of him.

“I hope they do,” Louis says, smiling with his teeth. “I hope they are right now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Harry's pov: Liam provides some insight into Louis' current state of mind, and Harry and Niall discuss the night's events.

The August heat is dire, even in London.

Harry winces as he steps outside and breathes in the mugginess after an hour of sitting in sterile air conditioning. He can already feel his hair poofing up and sweat beading under his arms. Niall and Liam are on his heels.

“Oi, we’ve lost one,” Niall says, looking around.

“We’re _Take That_ ,” Harry mouths to himself, remembering when Louis said that at the Roundhouse. He had laughed harder at it than Niall or Liam did. Louis understands him best of anyone about Zayn leaving; about the bitter, mean little feelings that sprang up in him after and the urge to be sarcastic and hard-nosed about it.

Liam lets the front door to the building shut behind them. Paddy is smoking against the car, and he looks up.

“Where’s Tomlinson?” he says.

“He said the loo,” Liam says. “But I think he might actually be hanging ‘round trying to eavesdrop on them.”

Harry shakes his head. He’s always thought Louis would benefit from learning to give over control in these sort of situations.

Paddy laughs. “Alright,” he says, and gets into the passenger side of Liam and Louis’ car. Harry’s own car waits behind theirs.

He’s suddenly struck by fear at the idea of returning to his hotel alone, and turns to Niall, who’s looking at the ground and seems lost in thought. Harry grips his bicep to get his attention, and he looks up.

“Come with me back to my hotel tonight?” he says quietly. “We can watch a movie, or something...”

Niall nods. “‘Course.”

Liam scuffs his feet on the pavement, looking young and wan under the yellow light reflected by the glass awning above them.

“So how is Louis?” Harry says to him, thinking of how he noticed Louis looking thinner, with bags under his eyes that were too heavy and defined to be from one or two bad night’s sleep.

Liam sighs. “Um, well. We told my mum.”

Harry’s eyebrows lift. “I had no idea,” he says, and glances at Niall, who clearly didn’t either and is squinting from behind his glasses.

“It was just last week,” Liam says, by way of explanation. “She didn’t take it well. I mean, not horribly. But she’s so protective of me, and she loves Louis, I guess she felt he sort of betrayed her trust…”

Liam scuffs his trainers again. Harry recognizes it as a habit of Louis’.

“It was bad,” he continues. “I mean, by my mum’s standards. A lot of shaking her head and sighing.”

“Karen?” Harry says, shocked, trying to picture this and failing. “Saint Karen?”

“She said…” Liam looks out into the distance, like he’s been doing all night. “She said to him, I love you like a son, how could you have led him astray like this?”

Harry feels a sickening swoop in his stomach. Niall looks down.

“Fuck,” Niall says. “That must’ve killed him.”

“He was near to crying,” Liam says. He trails off and swallows.

Harry and Niall exchange glances. Neither of them are comfortable yet with the heavy, day-to-day reality of Liam and Louis’ relationship. Being reminded of it still feels to Harry much like when you miss a step in the dark, or wake from a sound sleep because you think you’re falling.

“Well, anyway,” Liam says hurriedly. “That’s the state of things right now. She’s not as young and open-minded as Jay, she’ll take more time to come around. But she will come around, I’ve told him that. I even spoke to her yesterday and she asked about him. She’s trying. But he’s hurt about it, regardless.”

Niall nods. “‘S not easy.”

“And losing the X Factor,” Harry says.

“And losing the X Factor,” Liam concurs. “But Harry -- fuck, I feel like we keep talking about us and not you, when you’ve just had this massive thing happen.”

Harry feels icy discomfort in his veins. Blood rushes in his ears.

“We don’t have to talk about me,” he demurs, praying neither of them will push him on it.

“You sure?” Niall says, turning to him.

Harry nods insistently. “I’d honestly rather not,” he says.

His phone is turned off and in the car somewhere. Every time he remembers what he’s done, he winces and then starts counting backwards from 30 in his head. All he wants is to go back to his hotel and fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. The world can find him in the morning.

Before he even made the tweet, he sent a text to his mum telling him that he’s sorry, that he’ll be fine, to not worry if she can’t reach him right away, and to tell Gemma and his dad the same. Harry had a fantasy that he would be able to do this and just disappear. With every passing minute, that seems to be falling through his fingers like so much water. He fantasizes about leaving for the VMAs early, and spending a few days wandering the beaches in Santa Barbara, but he knows he’d be recognized. He’s always recognized.

It’s struck him before that this would be easier if he had a partner, but he doesn’t think he could do that to someone -- open them up to this level of intense scrutiny just to provide himself with an emotional buffer. It’s bad enough that every outlet will now pick over all of his interactions with other men obsessively: hound them, violate their privacy.

The door swings open again behind them and Louis appears with an unpleasant look on his face, his fringe hanging in his eyes.

“I think I heard Simon accuse Jeff of putting us up to this,” he says, sliding his hands in his pockets. “And of giving Harry the go-ahead just to fuck with their plans and get them riled, essentially.”

“What a paranoid gang of cunts they are,” Niall remarks affably. “‘Spose when you drop the ball as bad ‘s they did with Zayn…”

Liam shakes his head. “I hate all of this,” he mutters. “I feel like I’m waiting to be executed, now.”

“Payno, it’s not all bad,” Louis says, rocking back and forth on his heels and grinning. “Lisa’s face when she realized we weren’t fucking with her, that was pretty funny stuff.”

“What did Jeff say?” Harry says, rolling up his sleeves. He’s genuinely sweating now: a combination of repressed nerves and the humidity.

Louis glances at him. “Just the truth. He has no idea what they’re talking about, that it was your decision, and it was the right one.”

Harry’s heart is warmed by this.

Paddy rolls the car window down and leans out, banging on the hood. “Oi!” he shouts. “Boys! We haven’t got all night! Paps will be here any moment now!”

“How?” Louis yells back. “Building’s owned by a shell company, innit?”

“Trust me,” Paddy says ominously. “Getting the dirt behind this story, it’s the scoop of the month. If you think paps aren’t driving around right now searching for all of you, high and low, you’re cracked. Get in the car, lad one and lad two.”

Liam and Louis get in, grumbling good-naturedly at him. Niall takes Harry by the shoulders and guides him to his own car, opens the door for him, pushes him inside and then gets in on the other side and tells the driver to take them back to his hotel, all without Harry really noticing.

Niall snaps his fingers in front of Harry’s face. “‘Ey.”

Harry starts. “Jesus,” he says. “Okay, I’m back, I’m back.”

“You’re _aren’t_ alright,” Niall says. “I know Alan and Karl back there were too wrapped up in their shit to notice, and I can’t blame ‘em, but come on. ‘We don’t have to talk about me’? There’s no way you’re not on the verge of losin’ your mind over this, and you don’t want t’ talk at _all_?”

“I really don’t,” Harry says, turning to him. Niall’s eyebrows furrow uncomprehendingly. “There’s nothing to talk about right now, Niall. I did it, I wanted to do it. I can’t think about it right now, I just want to sleep.”

Niall searches his face. The car bumps over a pothole. Harry is overwhelmed by everything; the streetlights coming in the windows, the smell of leather seats and Niall’s cologne. He sighs a shaky sigh.

“Niall, I truly, actually just want to go to bed,” he says.

“Alright, Harry, alright,” Niall says, and pats him. Harry wraps his arms around Niall and squeezes him tightly.

“I’ve got you,” Niall murmurs. “Nothin’s happenin’ while I’m here, I promise.”

“Please come to the VMAs,” Harry says, drawing back to look at him. “I know you didn’t want to. I want you there. I want all of you there.”

“‘Course. Absolutely. We’ll all be there.”

Niall sits back down next to him. They sit in silence for a moment.

“The Louis and Liam thing…” Harry says. “Not to like, immediately change topics again. But… still weird, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you’re tellin’ me,” Niall says, stretching his legs out and relaxing against the seat. He looks like he could doze off at any moment. “I even had a feeling it was going on before I found out, and it still fucks with me head every time I remember, or when I see ‘em get cute with each other. I mean it’s sort of nice, in a way. But I can’t help thinkin’ like…”

“It’s a whole world they have without us,” Harry says. He doesn’t want to talk about it; it makes him feel sad in a mournful sort of way. “There’s so much we don’t know, now.” He clears his throat. “There was a time when I knew everything about Louis.”

Niall nods sleepily. “It’s comfortin’, though,” he says. “Like even when we go our separate ways as a band, someday, they might still be together. I hope they are. I don’t want to see them break up.”

Harry prefers not to consider that outcome. “I like to imagine they’re sort of stuck with each other, now,” he says.

The partition rolls down.

“Sorry, boys,” the driver calls back to them. “Security just got a call, both your hotels are swarmed. All entrances. I could take you back to one of your places?”

“Nooo,” Harry whines quietly. “Both of them are at least an hour’s drive, I want to _sleep_ …”

“Take us to Louis’ place,” Niall calls.

Harry laughs a punchy, overtired laugh. “Speak of the devil.”

“I hope he knows what he's doin’,” Niall says. “Louis, I mean.”

Harry nods slowly. “I mean, like… who's to say I know what _I'm_ doing?”

“It's different,” Niall mutters, flipping radio stations for a bit, then giving up and grabbing a Perrier from the minifridge. “You've been waitin’ for this forever. You thought about it and all the pros and cons. An’ then you did it, in your own little Harry way.”

Harry puts his hand out and Niall passes the bottle so he can take a sip.

“Louis knows what he's doing,” he says after a moment. “He's got a good head for this stuff, he always has. He's smart.”

“Oh, I know. But all the smarts in the world won't back you up when you're facin’ down a bear.”

Harry snorts and hands him his drink back. “Is that Irish wisdom?”

Niall looks at him, unusually sober-faced. “It's common sense, lad,” he says.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Niall take refuge from the press at Louis' place. Louis tries to calm Liam's nerves.

“Christ,” Louis groans as he strides through the foyer and heads into the living room, flicking the lights on. He collapses onto the couch and brings his hand to his forehead. “Payno, c’mere, c’mere…” he calls, wanting nothing more than to be cuddled back to sleep and to forget the events of the last several hours.

Liam appears in the doorway, squinting at his phone. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m just like… I keep looking at my emails. I keep expecting something? I keep expecting someone to call --”

“C’mere, love,” Louis says lightly, spreading his arms. Liam looks up at him with that basset hound expression he often wears.

Liam approaches him and embraces him, then rolls them over so that Louis is perched on his lap. Louis places a hand against Liam’s chest, and Liam holds onto his waist.

“Stop thinking about it,” Louis says firmly. “We’ll get a call from Simon when he wakes up.”

“We don’t even know where he is,” Liam says, his voice pealing upward frantically. He’s bouncing his leg up and down, and bouncing Louis in the process of doing so. Louis puts a hand on his thigh to still him.

“Yes, we do,” he says patiently. “He's in London, filming for X Factor.”

“He could be in the states overnight for a meeting,” Liam says, searching Louis’ face with his warm, dark eyes. “You don't _know_ , do you, Tommo? It’s daytime there. He could call any moment.”

“Well -- first off, ‘s not even daytime there. It’s like, ten at night. Please,” Louis says, stroking his face. “Climb down from the ledge, alright? It'll play out however it plays out. We both know our best move right now is to do nothing and let them all sweat.”

He smiles and kisses Liam, and Liam reciprocates hungrily. He comes at Louis with ferocity, like the familiarity of Louis’ body can quell the terror in him. Louis is happy to be a vessel that Liam acts mindlessly upon; he senses it might be what they both need.

Liam hitches Louis’ shirt up with his hand and presses his big hands to his ribs. Louis feels a hot stab of arousal in his belly and lets out a breathy little sound.

A buzz comes at the front door, indicating that someone’s at the gate. They draw apart reluctantly.

“Oh, perfect,” Louis mutters.

Liam makes a sad, needy noise and tugs at Louis, who’s already halfway up to go see who it is.

“I’ll be back,” he assures him, “and then it’s off to bed, alright? Just give us a minute...”

“Maybe it’s Simon,” Liam calls mournfully as Louis heads for the front door. “Maybe he’s got a pistol, he’s here to whack us and bury us under Wembley.”

Louis opens the door to see another car parked out front. Harry and Niall are stepping out of it, with security hovering over them.

“Uh, what’s all this?” he calls. Harry looks up and laughs.

“It’s a sleepover, apparently!” he calls back cheerfully.

“Hotels’re swarmed,” Niall says, as he bounds up the steps and squeezes by Louis.

“Both of them?” Louis says, incredulous.

“Yeah, both of ‘em,” grunts one of the bodymen as he gets back in the car. “These two are all yours tonight.”

“Press or fans?” Louis says, leaning against the doorframe.

“Press,” Harry says, as he takes the steps more carefully in his slippy-soled boots.

“Who have some idea of where I live, of course,” Louis says drily, as Harry slips by him as well.

“We appreciate it,” Harry calls over his shoulder. “We really do. Greatly so. Have you got any mineral water?”

“We've got regular water,” Louis says, padding after them in his sock feet. “In, y’know, bottles.”

“‘Ey, Liam,” Niall says. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

Louis rounds the corner. Liam is standing and beaming; he seems to be momentarily distracted from his state of gloom by the presence of the whole band.

“Yeah, y’know, I’m here every so often,” Liam says with a light laugh. “So just overnight, lads?”

“Just overnight,” Niall says. Harry returns from the kitchen with water and tosses one to him. “If you could throw a blanket me way, I’ll kip anywhere.”

“I’ve got, like, five spare bedrooms, Nialler,” Louis says. “You haven’t got to sleep on top of the dryer or anything. Anyone want something to eat?”

“I think I’ll just go straight to bed,” Harry says, and a shadow passes over his face. “Long day tomorrow.”

“You’ve got meetings?” Louis says, watching him carefully.

Harry nods and worries at his lip a little with his teeth. “Dealing with legal tomorrow, then meeting with all of Full Stop,” he says. “It starts early, ‘round ten. So I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Fuck, what time is it, then?” Niall says, and looks at his watch. “Almost six! Brilliant. I haven’t been to bed at all tonight. So like, par for the course, then. Who's up for FIFA?”

“No, it's bedtime for everyone,” Liam says sternly. “Including me.”

“I’m bein’ _made_ to go to bed?” Niall protests, as Liam ushers all of them upstairs. “I can’t believe this.”

“He’s in a mood, just let him herd you,” Louis says as he trails behind them, amused.

In the upstairs hallway, Harry points at a blank spot on Louis’ wall. “You ought to put a painting there,” he remarks.

Louis nods. “I’ve thought about it...”

“I can get you the name of a dealer,” Harry says. “What are you looking for? She’s with Sotheby’s, she’s very good. Do you like contemporary? I can never remember.”

“Bed!” Liam bellows.

“Alright, _dad_ ,” Harry says, looking offended. “I’m having a conversation, don't be a maniac.”

“I’ve gotten used to my leisurely sleep schedule over break,” Liam informs him.

“So,” Niall says from down the hall, and opens a door to one of the guest bedrooms. “This one’ll do?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, Nialler,” Louis says. “There should be sheets. Haz, take the one next to him.”

“Right,” Harry says, yawning. “And you’ll… yeah.” A sheepish expression appears fleetingly on his face. “Right. Of course.”

Louis makes an attempt not to laugh, but does so anyway. “I hope it’s not a surprise that me and Liam sleep in the same bedroom,” he says. “Is Anne a bit behind schedule on giving the talk? I hope Gemma’s gotten it, at least.”

Niall snorts.

“Please,” Harry exclaims. “Let me pretend Gemma has no idea what sex is, and let me pretend the two of you don’t have it.”

“Pretend away, as long as you go to sleep,” Liam hectors, heading into their bedroom.

“Night, boys,” Louis hollers at them, following behind him.

Ensconced in the privacy of their bedroom, Louis feels much more at ease, but no less awake than he did a moment ago. He ignores Watson whining from inside his posh nighttime crate and crawls into the bed, spreading out in the middle. From around the very edges of his light-blocking curtains, a tiny bit of the dawn peeks through.

“No, it's not breakfast time yet, boy,” Liam dutifully informs his dog, and flops onto the sheets. “Hi, angel,” he says to Louis, his voice like honey.

Louis grins at him and spreads his legs. “Hi, love,” he says, his voice low and sultry.

“Right now?” Liam says, surprised. He settles down on top of Louis and strokes his face and hair with gentle fingers.

“Yeah, ‘s sort of getting me hot and bothered remembering you professing your love for me,” Louis says, grinning cheekily. “In front of God and Simon Jones and everybody.”

“I can't believe we did that,” Liam says, for what feels to Louis like the fiftieth time.

“It was the right thing to do,” Louis says. “I'm done lying. If it's too difficult to keep us on as clients, if they don't want this mess on their hands, tough shit. We’ll be on our way.”

“Tell me it's not ‘cause my mum said those things,” Liam begs, pushing his fringe back off his forehead. “Tell me it's not ‘cause you feel betrayed by Simon and want to blow everything up...”

Hot discomfort floods Louis’ veins. “No,” he says firmly. “No, no. It's been a long time coming.”

Liam looks for all the world like a lost little boy. Louis reaches up and strokes his face.

“Kiss me,” he instructs.

A smile tugs at Liam's lips. “I can do that,” he says.

Louis grips Liam by the back of the neck as they kiss. He feels absolutely sappy for it, but he loves kissing Liam now more than ever, as they draw closer and closer to a year of it. A year of sleepy, bad-breath good morning kisses, goodbye kisses, make-up kisses. Sometimes Liam still surprises him; he had just a few days ago, when Louis was devastated over what Karen said and had cloistered himself away in a corner of the house, working on music with angry keystrokes.

Liam had found him and gathered him in his arms, kissed him sweetly on the forehead over and over again until he relented and gave his mouth up to Liam. The kiss was salty from the hurt behind it, like the taste that gathers behind your upper lip when you scrape your knee badly. He’d never had one quite like that with Liam before.

Liam draws back from him. “I’m so tired,” he says apologetically. “Would you be upset with me if I just blow you?”

“Payno,” Louis says. “On what planet would I ever be upset with you for blowing me?”

He settles back happily against the pillows. His eyes are warm and tired from the stress of the last few hours. He lets his eyelids fall shut as Liam’s strong hands maneuver him around and pull down his sweats.

He’s a little hard already, and Liam noses at his cock through his boxers in an eager way that excites him further.

“Yeah, yeah,” he moans. Liam mouths at his cock and he whines, grabbing at Liam’s hair.

“Stop teasing me...” he chides.

“Alright, alright,” Liam murmurs, and pulls his boxers down off of him to greedily put his entire mouth on Louis’ cock. Louis moans again and arches his back against the bed, delighting in the sensation of Liam pleasing him. He wishes Liam was fingering him as well, but it's fair that he isn't; they're both exhausted.

“Liam,” he says, his voice rising full-throatedly as Liam takes him deeper.

Liam comes up briefly. “Shh,” he whispers, his lips full and red. Louis stares at them fiendishly. “You'll wake up the boys.”

“Fine, fine, just get back to it.”

Liam takes him deep again. He commits to blowjobs with a fervor that is reminiscent of the deeply religious flogging themselves. His single-minded, cock-addled passion for making Louis feel good with little regard for his own actual physical capabilities is deeply attractive, but slightly alarming.

Just a month prior, he had been fucking Louis up against a wall when his hamstrings gave out, causing them both to fall and then requiring Louis to kneel over him massaging his legs as Liam rolled around in pain, insisting he was fine.

Louis loves how wanted Liam makes him feel, but wishes he were more secure in his ability to please Louis; just as he wishes he himself were a little more secure in his worthiness to receive pleasure.

Liam withdraws slightly from the fervent sucking and licks a stripe up Louis’ cock. Louis heaves a satisfied sigh and fists his fingers in the covers.

“Come soon so we can sleep,” Liam murmurs, kissing at the head of his cock and flicking his tongue over the slit. Precome is leaking from him and spasms of arousal are quaking through Louis’ pelvis.

“Okay,” Louis groans. “Touch me more, then --”

Liam leans up on the bed and slides his hands under Louis’ arse as he sucks at him, pulling him closer. Louis sinks his fingers into Liam's hair and yanks, causing Liam to gasp and drag his teeth lightly over his cock. Louis thoroughly enjoys the little pang of discomfort this brings him and rolls his hips in response.

Louis’ Blackberry, his business-only phone, dings with a text on the bedside table. Liam stops and freezes. Only a few label and management people have that number, and they've hardly reached him on it since the break began.

“Ignore it, love, ignore it,” Louis moans, stroking the back of his head and neck and ruffling his hair. He's so close to coming, he can feel the sweet clench of his pelvic muscles.

“Okay, okay,” Liam murmurs, licking the tip of his cock again; “okay, okay,” he repeats, stroking the base of it hard with his hand, and Louis comes for him. He arches his back again and gasps, stroking the back of Liam's head, his neck, his back and shoulders.

Liam swallows his come and licks it off his bottom lip. Louis shivers, watching him.

Liam moves up on the bed and settles on top of Louis, cupping his face. They smile at each other. Louis’ eyes rove over Liam's tired, happy face greedily. He drinks him in, relishing this moment and already fearing its end before it's even over.

Liam sidles back behind him, wrapping himself around Louis and spooning him. He drapes his arms heavily around Louis’ waist. His beard chafes at the back of Louis’ neck.

Louis sighs happily. He loves Liam's warm weight behind him, over top of him.

“Plans,” Liam sighs. “Tomorrow, we've got to… plans… we should talk to our own legal...”

“Mmm,” Louis says. His eyes are very heavy. “Let's try to not take many calls from Modest or HJPR. Only top players. I ‘spect they’ll all be busy with Harold stuff, anyhow.”

“What about Simon?”

“Jones or Cowell?”

“Cowell.” Liam holds Louis tighter as he says it, as if to apologize for broaching the subject again.

“I'll talk to him,” Louis says. “He needs to hear from me. Needs to understand how close we all are to bolting. We've got renegotiations in the new year…”

“It can all wait ‘til the morning,” Liam assures him, his voice cracking with exhaustion.

Louis yawns, catlike, and burrows into the pillow. Liam shifts and Louis can feel his hard-on against his arse.

“Hey there,” Louis says, chuckling.

“Ignore him,” Liam groans. “I'm so tired. He can hang on ‘til the morning too.”

“Night.”

“Night, Tommo,” Liam whispers into his ear.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry discuss the future of the band. Simon Cowell gives Louis a call. Louis and Liam have a spat.

Louis wakes after only three hours of sleep. He lies there, willing himself to get back to sleep, but his body is convinced the day has begun. Liam’s soft snores and a raucous bird on the tree limb outside his window don’t help.

“I’m having that tree ripped out,” Louis says, and nudges Liam with his foot. “Payno. Hear me? That tree’s a goner.”

Liam groans and rolls onto his stomach. “Early.”

“It’s nine, lazy tosser.”

“It feels like five,” Liam says, voice muffled by the pillow.

The sun plays in soft patterns on the white sheets. Louis thinks wistfully of how nice it would be to go to back to sleep.

“What’s that American commercial?” he says, instead. “‘Bout the Army? _Before nine, we get more done than you do all day_ …”

“And for five years,” Liam exclaims, voice still muffled, “we got more done than their  Army before seven than they did all day --”

“Oo, snooty Brit --”

“-- so let them play catch-up now, hey? Leave me be, Tommo.”

“Lazy tosser,” Louis repeats, and leans over to kiss Liam on the cheek. Liam laughs and hides from Louis under the topsheet.

He gets ready and traipses downstairs, his small bare feet loud on the parquet in the relative quiet of the house.

“Oi, mornin’,” Louis yells as he walks through the hallway, doing up his shirt. He hears someone in the kitchen, but isn’t sure which one it is.

“Good god, you’re loud,” Harry remarks to him as he rounds the corner. He’s got the fridge open and is staring into it with an expression that falls somewhere between disappointment and concern.

“Maybe you’re too quiet,” Louis shoots back, and sits at the long island. When they were designing the house, he asked for the island to look like a Woolworths-style lunch counter, to remind him of when his mum used to take him as a kid. “Feed me, Styles.”

“You feed _me_ ,” Harry says obstinately. “It’s your house. I haven’t got any idea what the organization of your fridge is.”

“Well,” Louis says. “We buy the food. We come home. We open that door there, and chuck the food in.”

“Haven’t you got a personal chef on retainer? You have far more cheese than is reasonable for two people.”

“Ah, that’s Liam, he’s on a cheese binge lately. Yeah, but I’ve been using him less lately. It’s like…” Louis yawns and stretches. “He spends, what, a hundred pounds a trip? Then he cooks a meal and it’s like, an ounce of spinach and some pine nuts.”

“Yeah, you look thin,” Harry says, sounding accusatory. “Wanted to make sure you’re eating properly.”

Louis’ cheeks inflame. In general, he likes to pretend other people don’t notice these things.

“I’m fine,” he says coolly. “Been working out a lot. Haven't got much else to do these days.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair. He closes the fridge and returns to his coffee, finally looking at Louis. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m cranky today.”

“Reasonably so,” Louis demurs. He tries to pick his battles with Harry, these days. “Tell us how it goes with legal.”

“Shouldn’t be too complicated,” Harry says. He smiles. “I think we can void some NDAs today, actually.”

Louis laughs. “All seven hundred of ‘em.”

“Well,” Harry says, and winces. “Not _all_ of them…”

“Oh, that’s right, Mike knows you slept with Winston.”

“Mm, and so does my assistant. _And_ that mess with Xavier Dolan.”

“Right... never mind on that.”

They smile at each other.

“This is all so fucked,” Louis says. “Innit?”

Harry raises his cup of coffee in a toast. “Welcome to the jungle.”

He turns and opens the fridge again, gets out two tomatoes and then starts rummaging in the cupboards.

“Have you got baked beans?” Harry says.

“Lad, what are you doing?”

“Making a vegan English breakfast.”

“Tomatoes and beans? That’s it?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Harry says, pulling a can of beans from way on the back of a shelf. Louis makes a face.

“Uh, no. Bung me some toast?” he says.

Harry snorts. “Where's your bread, even? Get your own toast.”

Louis watches him, drumming his fingers on the counter.

“So I was saying to Liam last night,” he continues. “About leaving Syco.”

Harry turns and starts a pan warming. He looks up at Louis sharply.

“As a band?” he says.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “How else would we do it?”

Harry looks at his watch. “Fuck. My car’s here in ten.”

“Well, let’s talk fast, then.”

“Our contract isn’t up ‘til next March,” Harry reminds him.

“I know, and we didn’t leave March this year as our ducks weren’t in a row, and we had so much going on, and Liam and I were worried about rocking the boat -- but, like, consider the boat well-rocked now, yeah?”

“Oh, Louis,” Harry sighs. “I don’t know, it’s so much. Let me get through today and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

“You wanted to leave,” Louis reminds him. “The entire reason you haven’t gotten to make any major moves on your solo album is Modest’s petty fighting with Jeff --”

“I know,” Harry says, tipping his tomatoes and beans out of the pan and onto a plate. “For god’s sake, Louis, I do know all this.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to not worry?” Louis pleads with him. “About that, anyway?”

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Harry says, smoothly changing the subject. “Are you two covered, with your NDAs?”

Louis nods. “I’ve already gone over that backwards and forward,” he says. “Months ago, in fact. In case someone had accidentally found out. They’re ironclad.”

“Good. Listen... about Syco,” Harry says, eating quickly and glancing at his watch. “I trust you and Liam to handle that end of it and come to a conclusion as to what's best for the band as a whole. Individually, and for us as a group, I'd love to be on a label that affords, y’know, more freedom. But please… don’t rush into this just to punish Simon.”

Louis sighs. “Like you said, we’ve got months and months. I’m just running plays in my head, is all.”

Harry’s phone dings, and there’s a short honk from out front. “Right, that’s my car,” he mutters. “Give us a hug, it’s been a shit twenty-four hours.”

“Yours’s been worse,” Louis says, coming round the counter. They embrace, gripping each other hard and tight. Harry smells sharply floral, like fresh-cut bluebells.

“Have you talked to your mum today?” he says, drawing back.

Harry laughs. “Yeah, this morning. Guess who she’s with?”

Louis grins. “Name rhymes with hey?”

“Right in one,” Harry says, and starts gathering up his things. Louis escorts him to the door.

“My mum doesn’t know what happened, does she?” Louis says, a hand on the doorway.

“That I came out on Twitter?” Harry quips lightly, as he pulls on his shoes. “Think she might have heard, actually.”

“You know what I’m talking about, Haz.”

“Nope,” Harry says. “I left that all for you to get her up to date on.” He chuckles. “The wee hours of August twenty... from now on known as the mass extinction event of One Direction’s heterosexuality.”

Louis laughs quite hard, the kind of laugh that’s more of a release than anything else. “Yeah, I’ll fill her in,” he says. “I’ll lean on the angle that we were protecting you.”

“Good luck,” Harry calls, descending the stairs. He turns and looks to Louis, then cracks a wry smile.

“I feel good,” he says. “Is that barmy?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Absolutely insane. But so do I.”

Harry flashes his teeth in a grin and then hurries to the car, sliding his shades down over his eyes. Louis watches him go and heads back inside to the quiet house.

He wanders into the living room and thinks about waking Niall up for a round of FIFA. No sooner has the thought crossed his mind that his phone rings in his pocket.

Louis has it on do not disturb, so whoever it is must be on his favourites list. He prays it’s his mum as he draws the phone out of his sweatshirt pocket.

It’s Simon Cowell.

“Shit,” Louis says aloud, in a strange voice that doesn't even sound like him.

He told himself this conversation wouldn’t be difficult, that he wouldn’t let Simon intimidate him, but his palms are getting slippery with sweat already. He gets to his feet and paces a few steps as the phone rings, then picks up.

“Hello,” he says, more unfriendly than he intended to be.

There’s silence and some faint noise over the line.

“Hello,” Louis repeats, louder. His heart is pounding. He prays to God for Simon to just say something horrid, to take a shot at him and put him out of his misery.

“Hey, Louis,” Simon says breezily. “Sorry, I’m in the car.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, his gut twisting. He continues to walk around, leaving the living room and stepping into the foyer.

He knows what this conversation is going to be. He’s the closest thing Simon’s ever had to an heir, and yet in the last year and a half they’ve slipped further and further from each other. There has always been a Shakespearean inevitability hanging between the two of them.

Louis pushes his fringe up off his face.

“So why’d you call?” he says.

“Oh, I think you know why,” Simon says. The connection is lousy, but Louis can hear a mild chiding reprimand in his voice anyway. “I hear you and Liam have been, ah, up to quite a bit lately.”

“Yeah. Been writing a lot,” Louis says, doing his best to sound light-hearted. His mouth is dry.

Simon clears his throat. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Louis says. “Maybe you ought to tell me exactly what you mean.”

“Louis…” Simon warns.

“You can’t even say it,” Louis goads. “Come on, we both know how hypocritical that is, don’t we?”

“Stand down, Louis,” Simon says, the smile gone from his voice. “I won’t have the smart mouth today.”

“You rang me,” he reminds him, trying to breathe deeply.

“Yes, as a business call! Listen, Louis -- there’s nothing wrong with sleeping with men. I hope to God this is not news to you. Half of us do it.”

“I don’t want to sleep with _men,_ I want to sleep with Liam.”

“Well, that’s going to be a problem,” Simon says wearily.

“I love him,” Louis says stubbornly.

“Bully for you. And you’re ready to find a nice girl to beard down with? Maybe Eleanor could come back in the picture?”

Louis lets out a bark of a laugh. “I’m not dragging my ex-girlfriend back into this toxic nightmare just to _pretend_ to date me while I fuck my bandmate in secret.”

“She’d be very well-compensated, Louis. We all liked her, she was excellent at playing ball, very poised young woman. This sort of arrangement would be easy for her, at this point.”

“Out of the question. Not happening. Y’know,” Louis says, “‘s’not like this is one-sided, here. Liam is also involved, he has thoughts and opinions as well.”

“Well, obviously. Liam is not as much my concern as you are,” Simon says, and Louis can hear him sucking on a soda.

His irritation flares.

“I’m your _concern_?” Louis snaps. “That’s news to me, is bein’ your ‘concern’ code for getting passed over for jobs you were promised, being screamed at by your hapless management --”

“Oh, _Christ,_ ” Simon says, drawing the word out in irritation. “Keeping Walsh on the X Factor was not a personal slight at you, and you know it. I can’t believe I have to explain this again. It’s just business, Louis. I am not your father.”

“You're damn right you aren’t,” Louis spits into the phone.

“And,” Simon says. “Liam hasn’t had the same problems with gay rumors as you have.”

Louis clenches his jaw. “I know.”

“He posed in _Attitude_ without any real problems, for fuck’s sake.”

“I _know_.”

“Are you two solvent?” Simon says. “Is this sustainable? Lisa informed me this has been going on for nearly a year now, which is absurd. If you split up at this point, it’ll be disastrous for the band. Nothing we can’t handle, of course, but it’s certainly not ideal.”

“I want you to know Azoff’s trying to poach us,” Louis says, ignoring his question.

Simon is silent for a moment. “Of course I know,” he says. “So?”

“So,” Louis says.

A few beats pass.

“Now hold on, are you threatening me?” Simon demands.

“That’s not me threatening you,” Louis says, dropping his voice very, very low. “That’s nothing. Here’s me threatening you. We've been talking dropping the label entirely, and I’m talking when I walk, I take all the artists I’ve developed under you so far and bring them with me to an entirely new agency.”

Simon is silent.

Louis heads back into the living room and takes a seat. He glances at the clock on the wall. It’s only 9:32.

“Listen to me, now,” says Simon, his voice suddenly as stern as Louis has ever heard him. He sounds, right now, like he did in the conference call where Zayn’s departure was announced. “You listen to me, Louis. Everything you've said to me so far has been absurd. Borderline insane. You need to be very careful about how you tread, here.”

“Christ, what’s it to you anymore?” Louis snarls. “You've got royalties from us to last a lifetime. Zayn’s gone, Harry’s right behind him. We can all part on very good terms, we can even stay under Sony if you like.”

“This is coming out of absolutely nowhere!” Simon bellows. “I thought we dropped this subject entirely! Back in _March_ , for God’s sake!”

“Look, at the very least, we want out from under Modest,” Louis says. “At the very least.”

“Fine. Fine. We’ll talk about it.”

“And I don't want any calls today harassing us. I don't want to talk beards.”

Simon swears. “I can't believe you. Honestly, the nerve. The fucking nerve.”

“I'm tired,” Louis says, biting back his hurt feelings and his rage. “We’re all tired, Simon.”

“You had better watch your step, Louis,” Simon informs him. “I can chalk this conversation up to a stressed young man who is in need of some guidance and a kick in the arse. But my bad side is not a place you want to make a home of.”

“I'm twenty-four,” Louis snaps. “Twenty-four years old.”

“You'd do well to remember how young that really is,” Simon says. “I'll be in touch.”

The line goes dead. Louis exhales hugely, lowering his hand from his ear.

He walks upstairs and back into his bedroom, peels his trousers off and unbuttons his shirt. Liam shifts on the bed.

Louis slides up against him, pressing their bodies together.

“Liam,” he says quietly. Liam makes a noise of assent.

“Can you… I dunno, make me feel better?” Louis says, hating how small and childlike he sounds.

Liam clucks his tongue and draws Louis further in, kissing him on the forehead and cheeks and stroking him, reaching an arm around his back to hold him. “Course, of course, always,” he murmurs. “What's the matter?”

“Simon called.”

“Oh, nooo,” Liam says, in a hushed voice. “How bad?”

“Pretty bad,” Louis says, getting choked up. He buries his face into Liam's shirt more insistently. “I was a brat and he was a mean cunt. It was awful.”

“Forget it,” Liam says decisively. “Let's… God, I can't think about this anymore. Let's stay in bed all day.”

“Nialler’s here.”

“He can stay in bed all day too.”

“We ought to feed him, or summat…”

“He can feed himself, he's a big boy,” Liam says in a low, reassuring voice.

“Okay,” Louis says, letting himself relax slightly in Liam's arms.

“Good.”

They doze on and off for a few hours. Louis is dimly aware of how restless Liam is the entire time. He shifts a lot and keeps clearing his throat, and seems to be lost in thought when he presses his nose and lips to Louis’ hair. He feels far away.

“I'm getting up,” Louis eventually murmurs around noon. “I can't lie around anymore, I’ve got to check in with Harry and I've got to tell my mum what happened… we ought to wake Niall up too…”

Liam sits up, yawning. “I can wake Niall,” he says.

Louis looks up at him. A sudden pang of solitude resonates through his body. He feels struck, like a cymbal. Then he feels resentment seeping in.

“You regret it,” he says.

Liam looks at him in bemusement. His hair is all askew. “I regret waking Niall?”

“No,” Louis says, sitting up. “Last night, or this morning, whatever, you regret coming clean about us.”

“Oh, Louis,” Liam says, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, it had to happen.”

“I don't want you to blindly follow me.”

Liam looks at him, visibly wounded by that. “Hey, thanks,” he says. “I'm glad you think so highly of my business acumen.”

“Liam,” Louis says, exasperated. “That isn't what I mean.”

“No?” Liam says, getting up and going into the bathroom. He starts the faucet and bangs around opening cabinets. Louis sits in the middle of the bed, abandoned.

“No,” he says, angry that Liam seems to be willfully misinterpreting him. “I just meant… you can walk me back from the edge of a cliff, if you've got to. You can say no to me.”

“You think I don't say no to you?” Liam demands, coming to stand in the doorway, filling it. “I've said no to you all the time! For six years! I think the first word I ever said to you was no!”

“But it's different,” Louis shouts, untangling himself from the sheets so he can stand dignified like a man. “We're together now, it's different, you're afraid of making these decisions and keep leaving ‘em to me, so I don't know for sure when it’s the right time to make them --”

“I'm hesitant!” Liam says. “I hesitate! Rightfully so! It's a tremendously dangerous thing, our relationship -- look how my mum reacted!”

Louis freezes. “Aye, well, she wasn't upset with _you_ ,” he says coldly. “It's me that's the disgusting deviant who led her little boy astray. Who cares how well she knows me or that at one point she loved me like a son --”

“She still loves you, she doesn't think you're a disgusting _deviant_ , Louis, come on!” Liam says, exasperated.

He retreats into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Louis stands, confused and angry.

“She was shitty to me,” he says. “I'm still waiting for an apology from her. Don’t s’pose it's coming?”

“On her own time,” Liam says.

“You could’ve stood up for me,” Louis snaps. “Could reminded her of everything I just said.”

“Louis, you got upset and left the room. I told you already, I talked to her after you left the room.”

Liam retrieves a washcloth and starts scrubbing hard at his face.

“You didn't tell me what you said.”

“I said I loved you,” Liam says loudly. “I said I was madly in love with you. I said I walked around aching inside all day because I couldn't believe we were together and you loved me back. I said I couldn't believe she couldn't be happy that I was that happy.”

“And?”

“And she said she needed time! Which, y’know, she's entitled to!”

“Fine. Fine, yeah.”

“I can't believe you think I would have let you tell them if I didn't want you to,” Liam says. He sounds morose. Louis’ chest hurts. “Do you think I'm just this dumb, naive buffoon who goes along with everything?”

“Liam,” Louis says. The chest pain rises to become a lump in his throat. “Fuck no. Christ, no. Never.”

“I'll go wake Niall,” Liam says quietly, and leaves the room. Louis stands in the middle of it, feeling distinctly blindsided.

His phone rings in his pocket. He retrieves it.

“Louis,” Jay says. “Darling. Oh, what a morning it's been.”

“How's Anne?” he asks immediately.

“She's all right. Just worried about him, mostly. I've made a lot of scones for us.”

“Yeah, ‘s a day for scones,” Louis says. Jay laughs.

“She and Gemma are getting a lot of crap on social media. Me too, actually, with the Larry stuff. We've been brainstorming together…”

“Right,” Louis says, distracted. “Look -- mum, I've got to tell you something.”

“Oh God,” Jay says. “Tell me it's good news.”

“It's… news.”

“Oh, Louis.”

“Let's say it's a step in the right direction,” Louis says, and sits down on the bed. In the hall, he can hear Niall and Liam talking quietly.

Louis takes a deep breath.

“So…” he begins.

As he lays the events of last night out for her, Jay becomes increasingly nervy, at one point flat-out begging him to just tell her what he's done. When he finally says they told Modest about their relationship, she falls into a dead and total silence.

“Are you protected?” she finally says.

Louis is confused. “Protected?”

“Legally, Louis!”

“Of course. Always.”

“Good. Oh, God. My little boy... This is happening.”

“It's a good thing, mum. We might even leave them, after this.”

“Well,” Jay says. “I never thought they gave you boys your due. Or marketed your last album well enough. Or that any of them ever protected you properly, from things like this Larry nonsense.”

“Oh, mum...”

“They could have done more to nip it in the bud, I've always said.” She pauses. “How's Liam?”

Louis tugs at a loose thread on the comforter. His chest hurts. “Fine. We're both fine, I promise.”

“I can't believe how much has happened in the last few hours. You've got to give us poor mums more warning, loves.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Sorry.”

“Well, listen, I've got to go tend to Anne -- call me later, please? When you've got more details?”

Louis considers telling her about his call with Simon in all its bloody glory, but thinks better of it. She'll just worry.

“Will do,” he promises.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Liam talk and reconcile.

The next few days rush by them in a whirlwind of phone calls, meetings, haircuts and suit fittings. As the VMAs creep closer, Lou starts texting Louis photos of his past event hairdos with accompanying question marks; he tells her over and over _I don’t care love, I proper don’t care_. They finally settle on a version of the hair he had at the Believe In Magic Ball. Lou trims his hair to the appropriate length for that, and Lottie pops in for a brief visit.

“This thing with Harry is just bonkers, isn't it?” she says, hands on her hips as she watches bits and pieces of her brother’s hair float to the ground. “I mean, like, so brave of him to just go for it like that, but I'm worried, aren't you worried?”

“He's doing alright,” Louis assures her. “This is good for ‘im. It's a fresh start. S’what he wants.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you almost sound jealous,” Lou comments.

He doesn't respond.

They’re nominated in Best Pop Video for History and Song of the Summer for Perfect; none of them are particularly fussed about winning. In the intermittent days between the tweet and the awards, Harry has gone AWOL for the sake of his own sanity. He hasn’t tweeted anything else, been seen out and about, or given any interviews yet.

He texts Louis, _Jeffs nudging me to pick a talk show to go on. dont know who i even want to talk about this with_. Louis unhelpfully responds _Ellen ?? She’s gay_

Harry texts back _No waaay, is she? xx_ and Louis figures he probably deserved that.

Liam and Louis tiptoe around each other. They haven’t exactly made up yet, so they exist in a sort of holding pattern, being perfectly civil with each other while hurting inside that the other hasn’t apologized and made nice.

Louis’ pride keeps him from digging down deep for what’s real bothering him. It keeps him from admitting to Liam that he unfairly blames him for the hurtful things his mum said, that he unfairly blames him for encouraging the row with Simon. And it keeps Louis from admitting that he he resents him for having an easier time of it, for not carrying Simon’s legacy on his shoulders, for not having so many Larry tweets in his mentions that he’s forced to disappear from Twitter entirely for a while.

Liam, for his part, is far too sensitive to any accusations that he acted in bad faith. He’s clearly still burned over Louis’ implication that he should have stepped in during the meeting and stopped him. Louis is angry and mixed up over the entire situation; he wants someone to sit him down and tell him what the right thing to do was, to validate him or to punish him.

The constant burning in Louis’ stomach and the lump in his throat would otherwise indicate to him that he fucked up, acted rashly, made a mistake, but for their part Modest has backed off. After Louis’ threats to Simon, they’re practically courting him and Liam -- Ann Marie personally sent them a luxurious gift basket full of Royal Riveria Pears, Andes chocolate and a note that read _L &L: let me know if you need anything! Big love. -- AM_

The Thursday before the VMAs, Louis and Liam meet for a dinner with two key members of legal. They compliment Louis on his forthrightness, on making sure their NDAs were in order before going forward with the admission, and promise him that they’re not in danger of leaks. Liam glances at him with curiosity during this exchange.

In the car on the way home, Liam says, “Hey… I had no idea you made sure we were so well protected first.”

Louis has one leg crossed over the other. He bounces his foot. “Right,” he says. “Expected I just did it out of hand, like a careless fuckup?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Liam says quietly, fiddling with the air conditioning. “I meant you never mentioned -- You know what… forget it.”

Louis looks at him and feels a pang of sadness. He wants nothing more to slide onto Liam's lap and kiss him, to beg for forgiveness and offer it in turn. They can’t go on being prickly like this, not when they’re on the same side, not when they have to be united in this scuffle with management. Not when they love each other like they do.

He turns to face forward again.

When they get home, Liam greets Watson fondly, kneeling down to the floor and cooing over him, scratching behind his ears. Louis stands behind them in the foyer, watching. He can't stand the idea of another night of them lying apart from each other, back to back and not touching.

“Payno,” he says softly.

Liam looks up and turns to him. His eyes are wide and round in the darkness.

“Join me for a cuppa,” Louis says.

Liam nods. “Okay.”

They head into the kitchen, Louis flicking lights on as they go. Watson pads after them, his nails clicking on the floor.

“The usual?” Louis says, fetching mugs from the cupboard.

“Yeah, the usual,” Liam says, and Louis turns to see him take a seat on a stool.

It's later than he thought; round ten thirty. The attorneys talked for ages after the dessert plates had been cleared, running them through potential disaster scenarios. They had discussed the likelihood of leaving Modest next year; neither of them had dared float the possibility of leaving Syco yet.

Louis heats the kettle.

“Listen,” he begins. “About this thing with your mum…”

Liam rubs his face with his hands. “I can't be pitted between you,” he says wearily. “I defended you to her, I said that already, I told her what she said was out of line --”

Louis is surprised. “You did?”

“Oh my God,” Liam says, rubbing at his temples. “Louis. Of course. Didn't I say that?”

“You said,” Louis tells him, slightly embarrassed that he remembers so distinctly, “you said you told her you loved me and you couldn't believe she wasn't happy for you. Not exactly a massive rebuke.”

“I didn't tell you everything, I suppose,” Liam says, and looks at him. “That's on me. I also said, I don't appreciate you speaking to Louis that way. I suppose the reason I didn't mention that is, I phrased it like…”

He looks away.

“What is it?” Louis says, his voice low. 

“I said, like, mum, you're talking to someone I'd like to marry,” Liam finally says, glancing back to him. He has a nervous, darting look in his eyes.

“Liam,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “It's not as if we haven't _talked_ about that, I told you I feel the same way.”

“Well, maybe I was a little more intense than that,” Liam says, his cheeks coloring. “I don't know, it didn't seem like something I had to go into great detail in -- I might have called you the love of my life. All right? Is that enough?”

He stands, wobbling slightly from the jack and cokes he had with dinner.

“I'm not going to just sit here humiliating myself for you when you're in too stubborn a mood for it to mean anything,” Liam snaps. “I'll go to bed, don't --”

“Liam --” Louis quickly rounds the counter. “Liam, Liam, love...”

He approaches him and touches him for the first time in days, stroking his face with his hands. Liam looks at him, despondent.

“And with the Simon thing,” he continues. “I'm just afraid because -- you and Harry always get it worse than the rest of us. If you throw us into the fire, I'm game, I always am, Tommo. I trust you like I don’t trust anyone else --” Liam stares right into his eyes, with all of the sincerity in the world. “I just _worry_ for you, you’ll protect us all before you protect yourself --”

“Liam, love, why can't you just _say_ these things to me --” Louis laughs breathily. “Jesus Christ.”

“I thought you knew!” Liam exclaims, exasperated.

Louis kisses him, deeply and passionately. Liam immediately responds, wrapping his hands around his waist and sucking at his bottom lip. Louis pushes his tongue into Liam's mouth and Liam lets out a low, long groan.

Louis walks them both backward, staggering through the doorway of the kitchen and into the hallway. Liam's hands are all over him, grasping at him and clutching at him. He snogs Louis with utter desperation, like he's been starving in the desert for the last few days.

“Lube,” Louis moans. “Get it --”

The kettle shrieks in the kitchen.

“Leave it, leave it,” Louis keens, tearing Liam’s button-down open with his hands and fumbling with his belt and zipper. Liam sucks at his neck with obscene urgency. Louis loves how it feels, he wants him to leave a massive ugly purple mark there, but remembers the VMAs and redirects Liam’s mouth back to his own. They suck at each other’s lips again and Louis bites Liam’s bottom lip; Liam lets out a noise that’s a bit of a moan, a bit of a cry.

They stumble into the bathroom together, knocking things off the counter willy-nilly. A soap dispenser clatters to the floor. Liam fumbles in the drawer for the lube that’s stashed there, grabs it and starts pulling Louis back to the door; Louis grabs him by his now-wrinkled and heavily disheveled lapels and says in a high breathy voice, “No, no, fuck me here, fuck me on the counter --”

Liam immediately returns to him, running his hands through his hair and pressing their bodies together. “On the counter?” he repeats, sounding dazed, rolling his hips against Louis. Louis feels the rigidity of his hard-on and moans.

“Right now,” he says, nearly hysterical with need. “Now, now. On the counter, on the floor, wherever --”

Liam tugs Louis’ trousers down off his arse. Louis tugs Liam’s shirt the rest of the way off his shoulders and slides his hands up his back, scratching him with his nails. Liam lets out a groan and sinks his own nails into the flesh of Louis’ arse and lower back. Louis makes a desperate noise.

“Fuck me,” he begs, and Liam maneuvers them away from the counter and eases Louis down onto the rug, cradling him around his lower back so he doesn’t hit the floor too hard.

His boxers fall away and Liam’s lubed fingers find their way into him almost immediately. Louis closes his eyes in blissful relief and feels his muscles slacken. All he wants is to be taken outside of his head, forced to inhabit his body in the most primal and vital way he can.

Liam nuzzles his face and cheeks and kisses him, murmuring sweet nothings to him as he eagerly shoves another finger into Louis and curls them gently to stroke at his prostate. Louis shudders with delight and pushes his breath out in a sumptuous moan that Liam responds to by rutting against him more aggressively.

Liam brings his free hand to Louis’ mouth and slides his index and ring finger inside. Louis accepts them eagerly and sucks on his fingertips as he arches his back. He feels the muscles of his arse contracting around Liam’s fingers in anticipation of his cock.

Louis pulls Liam’s hand away from his mouth. “I need you,” he begs, “please --”

“Are you ready for me?” Liam says softly, his voice throatier than it was a moment ago. His face is ruddy and his eyes are wild and dark with lust.

“ _So_ ready, Liam, God --”

Liam slides his cock into him and Louis lets out a massive sigh of satisfaction, rolling his hips up against Liam.

“You feel so good,” Liam murmurs, his voice choked with arousal and reverence. “Always feel so good…”

For the next few minutes, Liam fucks Louis hard enough that he is blissfully non-verbal, a writhing mess who knows nothing but pleasure and closeness, the salty smell of the air around them and the satisfying dig of his nails into Liam’s back. All Louis wants is to have him deeper, and he grabs him by the arse to pull him in closer and parts his legs wider to achieve this. He feels desperately good inside. This is what he’s been needing, more than anything else.

They come almost at the same time. Louis, for once, comes first and with Liam still hard inside him; he hasn’t rubbed one out in a day or two. He lies back, luxuriating in the aftershocks of orgasm as Liam continues to pant above him, then shortly after shudders and sighs, and lays down over top of Louis like a dog.

“I love you,” Liam murmurs, stroking Louis’ sweaty fringe up and off his forehead.

“I love you back,” Louis says hoarsely, and kisses him. He feels immensely bonded to Liam in this moment. If the carpet were a little more plush, he feels he could lie here all night. “Let’s not argue like that again, yeah? I mean, we always argue, but at least not until all this blows over?”

“Yes, yes,” Liam says firmly, nuzzling against his neck and kissing the side of his jaw.

“I feel utterly safe with you, d’y’know that?” Louis murmurs, gazing at him. 

Liam holds onto him tighter. “I’ve never taken that for granted,” he assures him. “Not for a single second, I promise, ‘cos I feel the same way.”

Louis feels bone-deep relief. He smiles at Liam, and Liam’s face breaks into the sunny, crinkly grin that Louis loves so much.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys arrive at the VMAs and discuss Zayn.

Around seven in the morning on August 28, Louis gets a text from Mike Navarra.

 _Just got a last minute confirmation re: zayn attending the vmas_ , it reads. _Looks like he plans to. Be aware.. Well do our best to keep you boys separated_

Louis is already up, eating the Chateau Marmont’s room service and watching ESPN. Liam begged off getting up for another hour of sleep.

Louis is angry in a helpless, unsettled way. He feels cheated. He had lulled himself into believing that Zayn would blow the awards off, despite receiving multiple nominations. The nasty part of him wonders if Zayn is only showing to upstage Harry.

He shoves his plate of eggs aside.

 _Anyone else get this mike text ?_ , he sends into the group chat.

 _Yes sadly_ , says Harry. Niall just sends a thumbs up in response.

 _Ok well anyone who says the word zayn tonight gets a sock_ , Louis adds.

Liam must be awake now, because he sends a sad emoji in. Louis rolls his eyes.

 _Even the presenters?_ Harry says.

 _Yes i will climb onstage and sock them_ , Louis types back.

 _Theres ur entertainment america !! Yorkshire style_ , Niall says. _What awards is he even up for?_

 _I dont know and no one had better tell me_ , Louis says.

 _What is a zayn?_ , Harry responds. Louis grins to himself.

 

/

 

The four of them are getting their hair done and their suits on at the Sunset Marquis; when Louis and Liam arrive, Harry and Niall are already waiting in the lobby. They're two sole still figures in the middle of a churning hurricane of musicians, their entourages, and hotel employees. Niall points fondly at Louis upon seeing him, and Louis realizes with a loud laugh that they’re wearing the same sweatpants.

Nicola, an upstart handler at Modest, pulls Liam off to the side soon after they walk in and starts talking to him in hushed tones. Louis observes this nervously in his peripheral vision.

“So, beautiful day to stand on a carpet and then hang around indoors,” Niall says cheerfully.

Harry shuffles his feet. “Actually, Jeff advised I skip the carpet, as I haven’t given any official interviews yet…”

Louis nods. “Right, good call, it’s a minefield.”

“So who’s doin’ it, then?” Niall says. “‘Cos they’ll ask us about you, an’ _I’ve_ got nothing to say.”

“None of us,” Louis suggests.

Liam returns to his side. “Uh, lads, heads up, he’s getting ready here too,” he says, looking at Louis concernedly from the corner of his eye -- the way Louis was looking at him just a second ago.

“Who?” Niall says.

“Z…” Liam watches as Louis raises his fist and cocks an eyebrow.

“The Bradford man we’re all so fond of,” Liam course corrects. Louis rolls his eyes, and then makes a circle with his fingers. Liam glances down at it, and Louis hits him in the thigh.

“Hey, unfair,” Liam whines.

“The circle game is the circle game, lad,” Louis says with a shrug.

“You know I’m just the messenger, here.”

“You can get me back later,” Louis informs him.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow, you know,” Liam says, touching him lightly on the waist.

Louis does know, of course. He had a hell of a time finding a gift; but he had finally made a trip to Cartier only a few days prior and picked up something custom and rather extravagant that is currently hidden under his weed stash so Liam won’t find it while on a cleaning jag.

“So get me back tomorrow,” Louis tells him, with a flirty smile.

They’re ushered upstairs by one of Lou’s assistants and the Modest girl who pulled Liam aside. As they get off of the elevator, Liam walks out in front with Harry, and leans over whispering something in his ear.

“Hey,” Louis says sharply, despairing of being left out.

Harry and Liam both turn back to look at him. Liam pauses and waits for him to catch up, then throws an arm around his shoulders. “It’s about you know who,” he says in a low voice.

“That’s fine, I still want to hear it,” Louis insists.

“Tommo, _why_? You said not to mention him.”

“Well, you’ve got me curious is all.”

“I was just saying to Harry that Nicola told me a certain somebody just had to be _dragged_ back to his room after his assistant found him doing massive rails of coke with Flying Lotus,” Liam relays, all in a fast mumble so Louis only catches the most pertinent bits.

“This early in the day?” Louis says, alarmed. “Don’t sound like him, does it?”

Liam shrugs. “I’m not sure I know what sounds like him anymore,” he says.

Louis watches as Harry and Niall walk ahead, perfectly in step with each other.

“I s’pose I don't either,” Louis admits.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn appears, to the annoyance of everyone who isn't Liam. Liam and Harry talk about life and business at the hotel bar, and Louis accepts an olive branch from Zayn for Liam's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going out of town for the weekend, update again on monday. thanks everybody who has commented and kudosed so far! i live for comments as we all do

“Look up, Haz,” Liam hears Lottie say.

She's across the room from him, bending down in front of a seated Harry. Bright softbox lights beat down on all of them, and their team members converse quietly in the corners of the massive hotel suite and down glass after glass of champagne.

Harry complies, and she spreads concealer under his eyes with her fingers.

“You look so tired,” she murmurs to him, so quiet Liam barely catches it. “You all right?”

Harry flashes a smile at her, but says nothing.

“Look front,” Lou instructs Liam. She's standing to the left of him, armed with a round brush and a hair dryer.

Liam directs his gaze away from Harry and back toward the mirror. He looks alright, he supposes. His face is ruddy and he looks tired, too; but he's been working out quite a bit and his face is well-chiseled.

Louis has just gotten his suit on and he sneaks up behind Liam, very gently boxing his ears with flat palms. Liam chuckles and grabs him by the wrists, pulling him forward. Louis surreptitiously kisses the side of Liam's head as he's tugged into his space.

“Fluff his hair up extra big on top,” Louis instructs Lou. “He looks good with it big on the top.”

“Excuse me,” Lou says, laughing. “Firstly, don't question my work here, Tommo. Second, what do you care what Liam looks like?”

“Just giving my _input_ ,” Louis says, dragging the word out and rolling his eyes theatrically. He's already a bit tipsy.

“Go sit down and wait for your sister to get to you,” Lou tells him, gesturing with the hairbrush.

Louis squeezes Liam's shoulders and winks at him in the mirror before prancing away. Liam drops his head to hide his smile.

“Why’m I ready before everyone else?” Niall calls out to the room at large, gesturing with a champagne flute. “Get on wit’ it, I want to hit the bar!”

Laughter goes up from the room.

“Hey, you're not alone on that one, Neil,” calls Paddy.

“I still need to get my suit on,” Harry complains, stretching his legs out and yawning.

“Your makeup’s almost done,” Lottie informs him.

Lou flips the hairdryer back on, and Liam closes his eyes and tries to let himself relax. He breathes deeply, in and out.

He focuses on the warmth of the room, on the strange, tight comfort that comes from wearing a suit expertly tailored to your measurements, the sound of the blow dryer. Liam lets his chest rise and fall in perfect rhythm.

Quite suddenly a hush falls over the room.

Liam opens his eyes in alarm, and follows everyone else's gaze to the doorway.

Zayn is standing there, looking stricken as everyone stares at him.

An unpleasant murmuring grows in the room, bolstered by a dismissive scoff from Louis that rings out, louder than anything.

Liam immediately gets to his feet. He has two instincts: to shield Zayn from everyone's anger and to shield everyone from Zayn’s presence.

“Zayn,” he says coaxingly, stepping toward him.

Zayn turns to him with round, glassy eyes. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft.

“Let's go out in the hall, mate,” Liam says, so quietly he barely move his lips.

He gently turns Zayn around and starts guiding him toward the door; as he does so he glances over his shoulder.

Louis is glaring at the both of them, looking scorned. Harry is looking at no one; he faces straight ahead, his face wholly unreadable. Niall makes eye contact with Liam and gives him an apologetic half-smile.

Out in the hallway, Liam turns him around again. “Let's go somewhere private,” he suggests.

Zayn’s expression is one of anger and bewilderment. “I just wanted t’...”

He trails off and seems lost. Liam tries to rally him by saying “Somewhere private?” again.

Zayn is coked out of his mind, he can tell. He'd seen him like this often, years ago. The only difference at the time was that Louis usually was, too. Once, they had run up and down the halls of their hotel floor, banging on people's doors and yelling. When Liam woke up, he was fresh out of a sound sleep and vibrating with anger. He’d shouted both of them down. Zayn had been apologetic, but Louis was wounded by it and barely spoke to him for days.

“Somewhere private,” Zayn repeats, dazed.

Liam looks around desperately. The entire floor is hotel rooms with their doors standing open as makeup, hair and wardrobe people and their various musicians rush in and out, and as assistants, publicists and press mill around in the hall.

Liam takes Zayn by the arm and leads him until he finds an alcove with an ice dispenser.

“Lad, what the fuck were you thinking?” he hisses. “You can't just walk into our room like that!”

“Sorry, God, sorry, I wasn't _thinkin’_ ,” Zayn snaps. His accent thickens when he's high. “I wanted t’ check on Harry, I wanted to see if he was alright, tha’s’all…”

Liam's anger deflates. “He's been doing okay,” he assures Zayn, and watches as his expression evens out slightly.

“Louis hates me,” Zayn says, his voice a mournful warble, like a dove or a widow. “‘E ‘ates me… and Harry too, ‘n there's nothin’ I can do, they want to punish me and my publicist’s forcin’ this stupid rivalry wiv Harry and I don't want it at all, and now ‘e’s gone and come out ‘n I can't even go ‘n text him like ‘ey, well done or ‘ey, ‘ow are ya --”

“You could have told me you wanted to get in touch with Harry,” Liam says quietly, and with his hands he grips Zayn's shoulders. Zayn's hair is light on top again, he notices, and he's wearing a tangle of necklaces. “I know you haven't got his new number, but I could have passed something along. Better that than to have you burst into our room and piss everyone off. Because it's not like our team’s happy you left, either, man. No one in that room was ready to see you today.”

“Right,” Zayn murmurs. “I know.”

Liam thinks of how angry Louis looked, and prays this is not the beginning of another days-long argument between them. He feels absolutely unmoored when they're fighting, like he's lost his right hand.

“Are you all done getting ready?” Liam says, examining him. He's in a suit, and the tell-tale smoothing effect of very expensive makeup is evident on his face; he looks like he's got no pores.

“Yeah, I am,” Zayn says. “You headed to the bar? All of you?”

“Yeah, we're skipping the carpet.”

“Right, I'm doin’ the carpet,” Zayn says. “I should get gone… give this t’ Louis for me, though?”

He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulls out the lucky one, then hands it to Liam.

“Oh, Zayn…” Liam says, staring at it where it rests in his palm. “Uh, I don't know, mate…”

“Just give it to him, he can do w’ever he likes wiv it,” Zayn says. “Just an olive branch. Good luck for tonight, y’know.”

“Right,” Liam says, trying to smile. “Good luck to you too.”

“‘S just the VMAs,” Zayn says. “I think me and Louis were usually stoned off our faces for these, right?”

“Yeah, and I'm usually drunk,” Liam says, laughing.

“Yeah, you are,” Zayn says, smiling. He's rocking back and forth on his heels and chewing the inside of his cheek in a way emblematic to a stimulant high. “Anyway, gotta get going. I'll see you later… or maybe not.”

Liam claps his shoulder. “You can see me any time you want,” he says gently.

Zayn nods, his jaw tight, and walks away down the hall.

Suddenly, he turns. “Wait, Liam,” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday, mate,” Zayn says, before he turns the corner.

Liam takes a few steadying breaths before he heads back to their room. He’s feeling light-headed, still.

When he steps inside, he's met by silence and curious glances.

“Everythin’ okay?” Niall asks from where he stands beside the doorway, sizing him up.

Harry, who's being helped into a military-style blazer, looks up and stares at Liam with that expression he gets sometimes; furrowed brow, blank eyes, flat mouth.

“I'm sure everything's fine,” Louis says dismissively. He's sitting in the corner with Lottie as she applies clear mascara to his lashes.

“Sorry,” Mike says to no one in particular, as he taps on his phone in the corner. “Knew he'd be here, wasn't expecting _that_.”

“Little shit, he could have said hello at least,” Lou scoffs.

“He actually waved to me right when he came in,” Paddy offers. “Seemed pretty doped up though, didn't he?”

Harry rubs at his temples. Nicola glances up from the itinerary she's examining and gives Liam a significant look, which he pretends not to see.

Liam approaches Louis at the far end of the room. Lottie looks up and takes a step back. Liam places a palm on his back, and Louis turns in his seat to make eye contact.

“I'm ready, so I'm going to hit the bar with Niall,” Liam says quietly. “Find me when you get down there.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Louis says, nodding.

“Actually, I'm ready too,” Harry says, finishing off a flute of champagne and setting it down, hard. “Let's go.”

 

 

/

 

“So, seein’ as Louis isn't here,” Niall says as soon as they're on the elevator. “What’d Zayn want?”

Liam scuffs his shoes on the carpet. It's a nervous habit of Louis’ that he's picked up lately. “Honestly, he didn't say a whole lot,” he says. “He said he was worried about Harry.”

Harry snorts derisively. “I'm sure,” he says.

“No, he seemed genuine,” Liam argues, while knowing the futility of doing so.

“Liam, it's okay,” Harry says. “You haven't got to do this, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Be a go-between,” Niall says.

“Maybe I want to,” Liam says, sounding more petulant than he means to. “Maybe I’m willing to sacrifice, if it means not burning bridges.”

“Good job you're with Louis, then,” Niall says, and laughs. “You'll be puttin’ out all his fires for years to come.”

“And maybe I don't mind!” Liam exclaims.

Niall touches him gently on the lower back. “Joke,” he says, in an apologetic tone.

Harry sighs through his nose. The elevator doors open.

Bar 1200 is already packed with people, mostly musicians like them who don't plan on walking the red carpet. Liam spots a bunch of familiar industry faces right away: producers he's met in passing, artists he's worked with, management figures for various labels under Sony. Juicy J is sitting on a low couch, chatting with Mark Ronson, and he gives Liam a big friendly wave.

People are giving Harry the most attention, by far. There are whispers and sidelong glances, and the blokes from labels are staring at him with undisguised interest. Liam slings a protective arm around his shoulder and Harry gives him a brief, appreciate smile.

“Is that Jesy?” Niall says as they slide up to the bar.

Liam looks where he's indicating. It is Jesy, chatting away with Jade.

“Yeah, go say hey,” Liam says. “Me and Harry’ll get some drinks.”

“Cheers, grab me a pint,” Niall says, and disappears into the crowd.

“So... tonight's already interesting,” Harry comments breezily.

Liam gets the bartender’s attention. “One pint of Guinness, one gin martini with an olive, and a tall jack and Coke,” he says.

“I get a martini?” Harry says, smiling. “Look at me, I'm James Bond.”

Liam shrugs. “We haven't drank together for a while, I figured I'd go back to basics.”

“The basics are always good,” Harry assures him.

The bartender gets Harry's drink to him first. Harry stares into it, stirring it with his toothpick.

“Lad, I'm really sorry,” Liam says. “About the stress, about everything. I wish there was anything I could do for you. I wish I could take all of this away and just, like, protect you from it, hide you from it --”

The bartender places Niall’s beer and Liam's drink in front of them. Liam immediately takes a few swallows.

“Liam, you don't have to,” Harry says. “I appreciate it, but I've got -- y’know, I've got some gay friends in the industry who've been helping me keep my head straight about it, and I've been spending a lot of time with Gemma and Robin and my mum -- I saw my dad the other day, and he was good about it. A little… apprehensive, I suppose. He's never really understood me very well. But he was very kind. And the boys, you've all been wonderful. And I've got Jeff on my side, now.”

Liam nods. The load on his shoulders is lightened at hearing this, but something that feels suspiciously like jealousy seeps into his mood. He ignores it.

“You just look so stressed lately,” he says.

Harry shrugs and sips his drink. “Don't get me wrong, it's been a lot to deal with,” he says. “I s’pose --”

He glances away. “Hey,” he says suddenly, and Liam turns to see Louis, who's got his arm around Perrie. She looks radiant in black and as usual is very, very blonde.

“Hey there,” Louis says genially. “Started drinking without me? Bastards.”

“You can drink out of Jesy’s hip flask,” Perrie informs him. “It's straight rum.”

Louis makes a face. “I'm full of fizzy champagne, dunno how well straight rum would go down on top of that.”

Harry flags down the bartender again. “Whiskey ginger,” he tells him.

“Oh, brilliant,” Louis says.

“So how are you boys?” Perrie says cheerfully. “It's been ages.”

Harry makes a so-so hand gesture.

“Surviving,” he says. Perrie laughs heartily.

“You know, we all love you, Harry,” she says. “Just wanted to pass that along. Love and support from all the girls. You can ring me wherever, whenever.”

Harry tips his drink to her. “And I appreciate it enormously,” he says in that gentlemanly way of his.

“So you two are just talking?” Louis says, studying them.

Liam nods. He envies the tight grip Louis has on Perrie. He knows he and Louis can still flirt at awards shows if they want; they were all over each other at the Brits, and hardly anyone noticed. That's the crux of the problem, for Liam. He and Louis can be absolutely soppy with each other, and to the outside world it means nothing. But Louis’ friendly arm around Perrie will certainly draw attention and speculation. If he keeps it up, it'll make headlines.

“Just talking,” Liam affirms.

“Right,” Louis says. Liam is attracted to him when he's like this, all ginned up, sassy and confident. He wishes he could kiss him right now. “We’re going to go mingle then, chat up some industry boys.”

The bartender produces Louis’ whiskey ginger, and he takes it, slipping the bartender a twenty as he does.

“And if you're spotted by friends of a certain someone while hanging all over each other,” Harry says shrewdly, “then all the better, right?”

Louis and Perrie exchange a glance.

“Someone who?” Louis finally says, and laughs raucously. Liam winces.

“Yeah, who?” Perrie repeats.

The three of them toast while Liam watches, feeling undermined and sad.

Louis blows Liam a kiss as Perrie pulls him away. Liam looks down.

“I'm sorry,” he says flatly.

“For what?” Harry says. He windmills his arm, gesturing for someone to come over.

“Not hating him like you all do.”

“Niall doesn't hate him,” Harry says.

“Who doesn't Niall hate?” Niall says, appearing at his side and taking the Guinness. “Oi! Sorry, lads, had forgot I even ordered this. I've already had two beers over dere, with t’ girls who back Hozier’s sets. They're fantastic.”

“Zayn,” Liam supplies.

“Huh? Oh, no, I don't hate Zayn,” Niall says, sipping the pint. “We talk, once in a blue moon.”

“What do you even talk about lately?” Harry says, examining him with curiosity.

Niall shrugs. “Sports ‘n stuff.”

“Sports,” Harry repeats.

“Yeah, we email.”

“They email,” Harry says, quirking an eyebrow at Liam.

“So on that note, I'm gonna get back,” Niall says, clapping Harry on the arm before he wanders away again.

“You two haven't talked about him in a while, I'm guessing,” Liam says, sipping his drink.

Harry shrugs. “I honestly haven’t got much interest in what Zayn does,” he says. “He made his choice, and I made mine. I don't have the, you know, spurned sort of rage that Louis has, but I don't feel the need to keep in touch.”

Liam shakes his head. “Anyway,” he says. “You were saying it's been stressful.”

Harry initially looks confused. It's hard to hear over the din of the bar. “Oh,” he finally says. “It's been -- yeah.”

The bartender supplies him with another martini.

“Gemma said something to me,” he says quietly. “The other day, she asked if I decided to come out when I did because I was starting to feel career pressure, and I was deep down afraid of testing myself as a solo artist, or with acting. Like -- firstly, if I succeeded and wasn't out when I did, then I'd sit around convinced it was only because I still had this media image of like heartthrob, womanizer, just hanging ‘round my neck. That it wouldn't really be _me_ succeeding. And then she said that I was dragging my feet doing things without being able to rely on having a band behind me --”

Harry sighs and downs the rest of his martini.

“So,” he continues, “I was like sabotaging myself, almost. Making sure I had a more narrow path to success, so I had more reason to come back to One Direction. And that I had an out, then, where I could blame my sexuality for holding me back, when it was me that was holding me back.”

“Sounds harsh,” Liam says. Gemma doesn't tend to pull punches, he knows.

Out of nowhere, he feels a sudden stabbing pain in his lower back; he winces and shifts on his stool and it passes.

“Well, she's got a point,” Harry murmurs. His shoulders are more slumped than they were a moment ago. “Actually, she sort of hit the nail on the head.”

“Harry, you've got all the freedom in the world,” Liam assures him. “You can do anything now. One Direction is always here waiting for you. We’ll always be here. No matter if it's a year from now and we're playing to sold out venues, or twenty years from now on a revival tour playing to a gang of mums. We're your boys, we’ve got your back. So do whatever you feel like for now, like we're all doing, and if you don't like it or it doesn't work out then hey, you tried. But you've still got loads of fans that love you, great friends, the world's at your feet. You don't have to be the next Beyoncé to have a good life and a brilliant career. C’mon, sunshine.”

Harry looks up and grins sheepishly at him. “Rubbish spot for a therapy session,” he says softly. Liam laughs.

“I s'pose seeing Zayn always rattles me as well,” Harry says. “No matter how much I try to rationalize it.”

“We're not Zayn,” Liam assures him. “I've said this a million times, I know, but it's true. We knew he wasn't happy, period, on a base level. Ever, really.”

“If it had been different to start with,” Harry murmurs. “Different label entirely. Who knows?”

Liam looks across the room to see Louis chatting up a bloke from RCA, grinning widely as he does.

“There's still time for us,” he says. “We’re so fucking young.”

“I'll drink to that,” Harry says.

“Right, to changes,” Liam says, and they toast.

“Night changes,” Harry says with a little flourish, sounding like his usual goofy self. Liam laughs in relief and good cheer.

 

/

 

In the car on the way to the theater, Liam hands Louis the cigarette.

Louis turns it over in his fingers. “You know, I've actually already got some of these,” he says, looking at Liam with a bright and cheeky expression.

Liam bites his lip. “It's from Zayn,” he says. “It's the lucky one from his pack. He said to give it to you, and he wished us good luck tonight.”

Louis looks visibly hurt, but he doesn't toss the cig down like Liam expected he'd do.

“When’ll you stop letting him try to manipulate me through you?” he says.

Liam sighs. He feels another sharp pain in his side, and grits his teeth.

“Give him the benefit of the doubt,” he pleads. “It's an olive branch.”

Louis snorts. “Olive branch,” he mutters. “Please.”

He holds his hand out.

“Give us a lighter, then.”

Liam immediately fumbles in his pockets for one. Louis puts the cigarette between his lips, and Liam lights it for him.

“Good luck, yeah?” Louis says, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I hope it's good enough luck for us to beat him out for song of the summer.”

“I thought you didn't know what categories he was nominated in,” Liam teases.

Louis grins. “Hey, Payno? Shut it.”

He slides a hand over Liam's thigh, then pulls Liam in by his tie for a kiss.

“So we're not fighting?” Liam says, when he draws back.

Louis smiles, dreamy-eyed from the kiss. “No, love,” he says sweetly, and leans over to ash the cigarette out the window. “We're not fighting.”

“Good,” Liam murmurs.

“Enjoy yourself tonight, Payno,” Louis says, running a teasing finger down his front. “Happy almost birthday.”


	10. Chapter 10

Best Pop Video goes to Selena, as Louis had expected it would.

When they went to sit down, Nicola had rushed to separate him from Liam, so Louis is sat on the end next to Niall, whom he pokes discreetly in the thigh when Selena’s name is announced. Niall gets back at him with a wet willy when the cameras pan away, and he almost falls into the aisle giggling. Sam Smith is sitting across the way, and glares at them with the severity of a headmistress.

They do win Song of the Summer. Louis doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he stands up and is shuffled onto the stage; as they’re climbing the stairs he slips, and Liam has to grab his waist and steady him.

“Oi, jelly boy,” Liam whispers in his ear. For some reason this tickles his funny bone, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to not laugh as they climb the stage.

A hush grows in the crowd as they walk forward. Louis realizes that everyone expects Harry to say something, but Liam is the one to take the mic and give a short speech praising the fans.

Louis feels his heart swell a little, sap that he is. The fans have been great to Harry, on the whole. They all know that Perfect was not actually the song of the summer, but a last-ditch voting effort had been orchestrated in the fandom to get them a win in support of Harry.

He glances at Harry, sidelong, and gestures toward the mic with his gaze. Harry looks back at him wearily, but acquiesces. When Liam winds his speech down to a slightly rocky finish, Harry holds his hand out.

Louis knows Harry on the mic will be the image of the night in all the press they get, so when Harry steps forward, he pulls Liam back and slings an arm around his shoulders. Liam glances over at him, smiles, and slides an arm around his waist. Niall gets a funny little grin and reaches out for Liam’s other hand, and then Harry’s free hand, and they stand there in a chain like kindergarteners. A small fond cheer goes up from their team, and then other parts of the crowd.

Harry smiles, broadly and genuinely.

“We always say this,” he says, “but we truly have the best fans in the world.”

A much larger cheer goes up.

“And their support, like always, means the world to us. Thank you everybody, and goodnight.”

 

/

 

“I am so drunk,” Perrie moans from her position facedown on the upholstery of Liam and Louis’ Range Rover. “This is it, this is the end. In lieu of flowers --”

“Not quite,” Leigh Anne says, poking her in the side. “We’ve got several after-after parties to hit still, missy.”

“We may just drop you off and head back to the hotel, actually,” Liam says.

Louis turns to him. “We may? The night’s barely started!”

“I’m not feeling great, Louis,” Liam says, and Louis squints his eyes so as to focus, despite the deluge of alcohol in his system. Liam looks distinctly grey in the face.

“Alright, yeah,” Louis says, immediately sobered. He puts a comforting hand on Liam’s thigh. “Let’s get you home and throwing up and you’ll feel better…”

“Me too,” Perrie groans.

“Did you see Zayn heading in as we were going out?” Leigh Anne says. “I think he was alone, wasn’t he? Has that model of his died?”

“She probably finds this stuff all as boring as he finds her modeling shite,” Perrie says. “I mean, that is a PR fixup of epic proportions, there. Not that we weren’t a fixup, but at least we actually liked each other. Uch, my head!”

“I have loads of Tylenol,” Leigh Anne says. “And water, you’ve got to drink water.”

“Oh, now she comes out with the Tylenol! You’ve been holding out on me, you div!”

“Anyway, I’ve heard she’s sleeping with her agent,” Leigh Anne says. She hands Perrie a handful of Tylenol and a water bottle. “Gigi is, I mean. Want some too, Liam?”

“Yeah,” Liam says softly. Louis leans over and puts the back of his hand to his forehead.

“You’re warm,” he says, surprised. “Not getting sick, are you?”

“I might be,” Liam says, accepting the pills from Leigh Anne and dry-swallowing them.

Louis comforts himself with the idea that Liam has just got a cold that isn’t mixing well with alcohol. “We’ll get you in bed soon,” he assures him, and rubs Liam’s thigh.

After fifteen more minutes of driving around the Hollywood Hills and dropping off half of Little Mix, Liam only looks more ill; he’s started to perspire heavily. As the car pulls away, he grabs Louis’ wrist.

“Full disclosure?” he says in a voice so grim it sends pangs of fear straight to Louis’ core.

“Liam,” Louis says urgently, dizzy with adrenaline. “You’re officially scaring the shit out of me.”

“Okay,” Liam says. “Uh, I’m having really bad pains in my lower back. I had a few earlier, but it’s gotten worse now. It’s ‘round where my kidneys are. Please don’t panic.”

Louis closes his eyes as fear and denial make an attempt at swallowing him. He bears down and forces himself into decision-making mode.

He lowers the partition.

“Take us to Cedars-Sinai,” he informs Craig, the driver.

“Yessir,” says Craig, and puts on the turn signal.

Paddy wheels around in his seat. “What for?” he demands.

“Liam’s come over badly,” Louis says. “Not sure what’s wrong, but he says he thinks he’s got kidney pain.” He marvels at how calm his voice sounds when he wants nothing more than to throw a panicked tantrum.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Paddy moans. “Alright, I’ll make some calls and make sure he’s got privacy when he gets there. You get back there and take care of him. You hear me?”

“Of course,” Louis snaps, aggrieved, and returns to Liam’s side of the bench seats, stroking his hair from his face. “We’re on our way to a hospital, so just close your eyes and relax, Payno.”

Liam smiles weakly. “Happy birthday to me,” he says.

“Oh, that’s right,” Louis says, and looks at his watch. “Fuck. In twenty minutes you’ll be twenty-three.”

“And dead,” Liam says. “I’m dead for my birthday. Happy birthday.”

Louis’ heart jolts in his chest. “Don’t say that,” he snaps. “Don’t say that shit to me, d’you hear me? We’ll buy you ten new kidneys if you need ‘em. I’ll buy you a bionic kidney off a 3D printer. Should I call your mum?”

“Call her after we see --”

Liam suddenly leans forward, groaning, doubled over in pain.

“Call her after we see the doctor,” he finally says, breathing heavily. “So we know what to tell her. I don’t need her flying out to the states if I’m fine.”

Liam rubs his eyes.

“You sound so Yorkshire when you’re worried,” he says. “It’s funny.”

“Nothing is funny right now,” Louis informs him. “I’m ringing the boys, hold on…”

He calls up Niall and finds his hand is trembling a bit as he raises his phone to his ear.

“Oi!” Niall shouts. “Where are you lads at? Come meet us, we’re at a place on Hillside, we found some of Liam’s friends and they keep askin’ for him --”

“We’re on our way to hospital,” Louis says. He reaches out and takes Liam’s hand.

“What?” Niall says loudly. “Hospital?”

“Liam’s not feeling well, at all.”

“Which hospital?”

“Niall, you haven’t got to _come_. I’m just letting you know.”

“Fuck you, course we’re comin’! Which hospital?”

Louis hears Harry sharply exclaim “ _Hospital?_ Who’s in hospital?” in the background.

“Cedars-Sinai,” Louis says. “Dunno how long it’ll take for him to get a room --”

“I’ve been texting a contact there, I’ve got a room lined up already,” Paddy yells. “No waiting. And a nephrologist’ll see him as soon as we get in. One of the best in the country. Working a night shift and just came on, so we didn’t even have to wake his arse.”

“If I ever forget how nice it is to be rich and famous,” Liam murmurs, “remind me of this. Thanks Paddy,” he calls out.

“Right, so Cedars-Sinai,” Louis says to Niall, who affirms this and hangs up with him. He turns to Liam. “Yeah, next time you say something stupid on Twitter and go off on a tear about wishin’ you could go back in time and be a pugilist in nineteenth century England, I’ll say to you -- but Payno, remember when we didn’t even have to wait for the fancy kidney doctor?”

“A pugilist,” Liam repeats sleepily. He’s still starkly pale. Louis squeezes his hand.

“A boxer, Leeyum.”

“Right, right. He’s so smart, my…”

Liam opens his eyes wide and trails off, seeming to remember the partition is down. He gives Louis an apologetic look.

“My Tommo,” he finishes, and winces with pain again.

“Squeeze my hand when it hurts,” Louis offers.

“No, no.”

“Squeeze my hand,” Louis repeats, much more fiercely.

“Okay,” Liam relents.

 

/

 

They pull up to a side entrance and Liam is helped into a wheelchair. He insists he’s fine to walk, but is powerless against the nurse who insists on it. Paddy stalks the perimeter of the entrance, looking for paps or creeps.

“All clear,” he says to Louis as he joins them on their walk to the elevator. Louis nods. Between being drunk and the terror pumping through him, he feels disassociated from his body. The closer Liam gets to seeing a doctor, the more fearful he grows. The whole thing feels deeply unfair to him; an hour ago, they were partying without a care in the world.

As soon as he's settled in his room, Liam requests Paddy go back to the Marmont and grab some of his things. He hurries off, leaving Louis alone without the buffer of someone else who's painfully worried about Liam. Louis finds himself wringing his hands, like he's seen his mother do.

A nurse named Melinda takes a medical history. She affirms that his last kidney labs were indeed perfectly normal, which calms Louis somewhat as he paces around.

“Can I get you a chair, Mr Tomlinson?” she says to him.

“You can get me the nephrologist,” he snaps, then immediately regrets it. “Sorry, yeah, I’d like a chair, if you’ve got one.”

“Dr Tapper will be with you in a moment,” Melinda says patiently. “He’ll look at Mr Payne’s chart and be able to provide you with some information. I’ll also be back to draw blood and take a urine sample, and then we’ll run some labs.”

“Mr Payne’s my father,” Liam tells her with a wink.

She smiles as she straightens out his IV line. “Okay, Liam.”

“It’s actually my birthday, as of five minutes ago,” he says with a wry smile, and he glances at Louis, who does his best not to look sad.

“Oh, what a lousy birthday!” she exclaims. “So, birthday boy -- can I ask when the last time you passed urine was?”

Liam looks down, his brows knitting together as he thinks.

“Oh, shit,” he says. “Not for most of the day. Not since around one. And it was a bit painful. I thought I was dehydrated.”

“Was the urine cloudy? Bloody?” Melinda says, her voice suddenly more urgent.

“I didn’t look,” Liam confesses. “It was a urinal, I was in a rush.”

“Oka-ay... Well, if you can’t provide us with a sample, we’ll just insert a cath and take some, no problem.”

She departs, and Liam makes a face.

“Twenty-three is a blast already,” he says. “Needle in my arm and one in my urethra.”

“It’s very rock n’ roll, though,” Louis says. “Being at Cedars-Sinai for your birthday?”

He sits on Liam’s bed next to him and strokes his hair.

Liam smiles at him. “Love,” he says. “Tommo, angel. You’ve got to stop staring at me like I’m about to drop dead.”

A strong wave of emotion tugs at Louis’ heart. Liam grits his teeth with pain again, and Louis clears his throat.

“Don’t be a baby,” he says lightly, trying to lift the mood.

Liam laughs, and protests, “It does rather hurt!”

“Well, you didn’t ask about pain medication, genius.”

“Ohh, I forgot I could,” Liam exclaims. “Morphine sounds nice.”

“I think you've got to sober up, first.”

“That would be correct,” a voice says from behind Louis. Louis turns and sees a nondescript but very tan middle-aged man in a lab coat.

“Dr Tapper?” Liam says.

“The one and only,” he says. He shakes Louis’ hand, approaches Liam’s bedside and begins palpating his abdomen. “So when was your last drink, Mr Payne?”

“Oh, um... ‘round five I had a few jack and cokes.”

Louis looks up in confusion. He thought Liam had been drinking along with him the entire night.

“A few, huh? Two? Three? Seventeen?” ribs the doctor.

Liam laughs. “Two.”

“Well, then, you’re in luck, because that means I can actually give you some morphine right now,” Tapper says with a grin. He glances down, consulting Liam’s chart. “Melinda will be back in a moment to administer that, and to draw blood and set you up with a cath. But my preliminary diagnosis, which I’m very confident in, is a nasty kidney stone.”

“Kidney stone?” Louis says sharply.

Liam closes his eyes and lets out a massive sigh of relief.

“Yup. Can be brought on by serious stress, excessive drinking, travel. All that stuff that plagues famous musicians,” Dr Tapper says. “We’ll get an ultrasound to make sure.”

“And then?” Liam says.

“And then we’ll wait around a bit for you to pass it, or I’ll go in and grab it myself. Simple outpatient procedure. Excuse me for a moment.”

As Tapper swishes out in his coat, Louis approaches Liam’s bedside. “You weren’t drinking at the after party?” he says.

Liam shakes his head. “Right after the awards, I got feeling shitty. I kept taking drinks and just pouring ‘em out into bushes, pouring champagne on the floor...”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Louis says quietly, taking his hand and stroking Liam’s palm with his thumb. “We could’ve gone back to the hotel.”

Liam shakes his hand. “Didn’t want to ruin the fun,” he says. “And I suppose I didn’t want to admit to myself I felt sick. I mean, we had a blowout planned tomorrow, and then a flight at four AM, and things back in London -- and you’re so stressed, I wanted you to have a good time --”

“Payno,” Louis says sternly. “I could have a good time with you anywhere, you idiot. You absolute knob. And you _know_ that. Don’t ever hide these things from me, I’m dead serious.”

Liam grins sheepishly and shakes his head. Louis sits back down on his bedside, again.

“You know,” he says in a low voice. “You look cute in the little gown.”

“My bum’s hanging out,” Liam informs him.

“Even better.”

Louis’ phone rings in his pocket, and he grabs it.

“We’ve gone to the wrong hospital,” Harry says very dramatically, without so much as a hello. “This driver took us to the _wrong hospital entirely_.”

“Where’d you go?” Louis says, amused. “You know, you haven’t actually got to come, lads.”

“Good Samaritan, across town! Traffic’s a nightmare. And excuse me, what? Why not?”

“The doctor thinks he’s just got a kidney stone.”

“A kidney stone!” Niall bellows in the background. “I’ve left a party where Adele was doin’ Bananarama karaoke to watch Payno pass a kidney stone?”

“Apparently,” Harry tells him. “Um, tell Liam to expect Juicy J and some others to show up at the hospital soon, by the way.”

Louis squints. “Right,” he says. “How many others?”

“‘Round thirty.”

“ _Thirty!_ Haz!”

“Don’t Haz me,” Harry exclaims, sounding like a mum. “Niall said you made it sound like Liam was _dying_.”

“Well,” Louis says, defensive. “I thought he might’ve done!”

“I’ll ring you when we get there so you can come give us an update,” Harry says. “Ta, Luigi.”

Louis freezes. Harry hasn’t called him that in years. “Um,” he says. “Yeah, will do. Bye.”

Melinda comes in and starts looking for a good vein in Liam’s arm. Someone else drags an ultrasound machine in and starts setting it up.

“Louis,” Liam says, sounding nervous. “C’mere, come stand near me...”

“Course, lad,” Louis assures him, and moves to the head of his bed, squeezing his shoulder.

 

/

 

Melinda asks Louis to give them some privacy before she inserts the catheter, which Louis finds immensely funny considering how well he knows Liam’s cock by now. He looks at Liam, eyes twinkling.

“No funny business,” Louis says cheekily.

“Go get yourself some coffee, Tommo,” Liam says, laughing. The morphine seems to have already hit him; his mood is much improved.

Louis steps into the hall and avoids a passing gurney on his way to the lounge area. He spots Dr Tapper at a nurse’s station on the phone and approaches him.

“Yeah, it's the ultrasound to rule out kidney stones in four hundred and five,” he says, and pauses. “No, just severe back pain, nausea, presented diaphoretic with vertigo. No, no… I thought about that too, but no tenderness or guarding. Yeah, yeah, that’s what I said to the nurse, weird history with the kidneys. Anyway, apparently he hasn’t taken a leak in almost twelve hours, so I think this could be a big one. I’ll check the ultrasound, but once you've consulted, I’d say yank it either way, otherwise he’ll be laid up...” Tapper glances over at Louis. “Hey, why don’t you let me go, I’ve got his friend here waiting on me. Yeah, labs should be up in the new few minutes. Okay, I’ll let you know. Bye.”

He hangs up and turns to Louis. “Howdy, you caught me,” he says. “How’s the patient?”

Louis shrugs. “Better now that he’s got morphine. So you might have to operate?”

“You don’t miss a trick, huh?” Tapper says.

“I dunno how coded _‘just yank it’_ is,” Louis says drily. “How safe’s the procedure?”

“There are several, and --” Tapper rocks on his heels and gives Louis a bland smile “-- they’re all extremely safe.”

“No complications, ever?” Louis presses him.

“We-ell… there are complications with every surgery, but Liam is young, and very healthy.”

Louis glares at him. He’s not quite sure why he’s so pissy, but he feels he might as well unleash it on the person with the massive paycheck and not, say, Melinda.

“Listen, Mr Tomlinson, we all feel very helpless when our loved ones need an unexpected surgery,” Tapper says gently.

“Listen, Dr Tapper, I’m _twenty-four_ , for fuck’s sake,” Louis says. “Just be careful with him, alright?”

“He’s in excellent hands. Scout’s honor.”

“So where can I get, like -- tea? Coffee? You haven’t got any tea, right?”

“Coffee vending machine is thataway, but if you’d like some higher quality stuff, we have a twenty-four hour cafe on this floor,” Tapper says. “And they might have some tea bags.”

Louis makes a face. “Coffee’s good.”

“The cafe is just past the waiting room there,” he says, and points down the hall, “where, by the way, the nurses are complaining that a middle-aged rapper and his entourage have taken over? And want to see Mr Payne?”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Louis exclaims. “Right, I’ll -- right --”

He dashes down the hall and into the waiting room to find Juicy J, and at least fifteen other people.

“Tommo!” Juicy J lows fondly. “What’s up, man? Where’s LP? He’s alright, right?”

“He’s alright,” Louis assures them, hoping he’s telling the truth.

A general cheerful noise goes up from all of them, including the woman Liam’s been pretending to date on and off. Out of annoyance, Louis has pointedly never learned her name. It’s Serena or Serefina or something. Louis calls her Swordfish at home, which never fails to make Liam laugh. “She’s really quite a nice girl!” he always protests.

A nurse walks by, glaring. “You know, we have families of patients who will need somewhere to sit,” she says.

“Heyyy,” says a large guy, who’s standing against a wall. “We haven’t taken _all_ the seats, ma’am...”

“Ah, I’m sorry, miss,” Louis says effusively, which seems to defuse her slightly. “I’ll get them moving along.”

“Nooo, I want to see my little DJ, I want to see the birthday man,” Juicy J protests. “What’s the medical update, Tommo?”

“Kidney stones, probably,” Louis says. “Nothing major, they don’t think.”

There’s a cheer. Someone holds up a nearly-empty bottle of Ciroq and shakes it around.

“ _Excuse_ me!” another nurse says, from behind the clerking desk. “No alcohol in the hospital!”

“Actually, I’ve got to get back now,” Louis says hurriedly, “But -- he’ll be glad you came. Just, like -- maybe head out now, since you won’t be able to see him for a bit, and we’ll all get together in town for his birthday before we leave, once he’s better.”

Juicy J salutes him. “Alright, man,” he says, getting up and shaking his hand. “We’ll be at Kendrick’s place in the Hills the rest of the night, call if you need anything. Give Liam our love.”

Louis is then bum’s rushed by most of Juicy’s entourage, who are drunk and all seem to want to hug him.

“Night, night,” he calls back to them as they crowd on the elevator.

Louis heads back to Liam’s room, completely forgetting about his coffee. His eyes are burning with exhaustion now that most of the adrenaline from earlier has left his body.

He slips in the door. Liam is looking at the ultrasound machine, visibly distressed, as the technician leans over him.

“Hey,” Louis says softly.

Liam glances up, and despite the heavy weariness of the rest of his face, his eyes crinkle with a smile at seeing Louis.

“So, he’s got a good-sized blockage, here,” the tech says, indicating the screen. “Tapper’s going to want to have a urologist operate.”

“Outpatient?” Louis says, crossing his fingers hopefully as he moves closer.

She shakes her head. “He’s a candidate for PCNL. It's minimally invasive, but it means a day or two in the hospital.”

“Happy birthday,” Liam says, in a sing-songy way. Louis returns to his side and strokes his hair, not caring how it looks.

“A urological surgeon will be down in a moment for a consult, and then you’ll know more,” the tech tells him. “Just hold tight.”

“So…” Liam sighs. “I s’pose you can ring my mum, now.”

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs. “I s’pose I can.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis reconciles with Karen. Zayn shows up, and then so do Niall and Harry. Harry and Louis squirrel away for a Zayn-related bitchfest.

Louis leans against the wall across from the MRI room. It’s the one quiet place on the floor he could find. He waits for a tech pushing an empty gurney to pass by, and pulls out his phone.

He’d rather not ring Karen; he's terrified of how she’ll react to hearing from him. But there's something primally comforting about sacrificing for Liam's sake when he’s down for the count.

The call stretches out long enough to almost go to voicemail before Karen picks up, sounding frantic. “Hello, hello?”

“Karen, it’s Louis,” he says, looking down at his feet.

There’s silence over the line.

“D’you have any idea what time it is?” she finally says, baffled and angry.

“Liam’s in hospital,” Louis tells her, rubbing at his eye with his free palm.

“Oh, my god,” Karen says, and gasps. It sounds awful in his ear; a sharp expression of the horrors of motherly love. “Oh, my god --”

“He’s alright, he’s alright,” Louis assures her. “He’s got a bad kidney stone, is all. He needs surgery --”

“Oh, my _God!_ Surgery? Kidney stone? Is it because of his --”

“No, no no. They promised it doesn't have anything to do with that. They’re running labs, but his kidneys are healthy. A nephrologist saw him, an’ everythin’ --”

“Can I speak with him?” Karen says. She sounds frightened, and her voice is small. Louis thinks of his own mum.

“Sorry, I don’t think you can right now,” he says. “The surgeon’s in there talking with him. I can have him call you as soon as that’s done with.”

“Should we fly out?”

“I don’t think he’d want that, it’s a long flight… the surgery isn’t that serious. He’ll just have to stay tonight and tomorrow, and then we’ll get back to London as fast as we can.”

“And you’re with him,” Karen says.

“Yeah,” Louis responds, fiddling with the hem of his blazer. He has a crashing realization that he’s still in his suit, and that his hair’s done up all quiffy. He must look like a wanker. “Yeah, I’m here, Karen. ‘M always here.”

She sniffles. “You’re good to him.”

Louis bites his lip. Suddenly he feels overwhelmed, and is terrified he might cry. “Thanks. I try to be.”

“He loves you so much,” Karen says, her voice all warbly.

Louis rubs at his eyes. “And I love him,” he says hoarsely.

“I’m sorry about all the things I said to you,” Karen confesses. “I love you, Louis, I always have, and you’re a wonderful boy, a good man, I know that. This entire situation has just been very difficult for me to wrap my head around, and I’ve been struggling with it. I didn't want this kind of hardship for him, or for you. But I’m working on it. And I’m so thankful you’re there with him, right now.”

Louis feels a great weight leave his chest, and lets out a deep breath. “Thanks,” he says. “I needed -- I appreciate it.”

“Please text me with updates,” she says. “I’m up, now. It’s about six here, so I’ll just -- I’ll get some coffee and get Geoff up, and we’ll be here waiting for updates. And have him call me, if you please.”

“I will, I will.”

“Alright. Talk to you, love.”

Louis hangs up and shakes his head, working to regain his composure. Karen’s mention of coffee reminded him that he needs to get some, and he turns the corner, trying to remember which direction he came from.

Down the hall, he sees a figure walking toward him.

Out of context, and with his brain addled from exhaustion and alcohol, it takes Louis a long moment to realize it’s Zayn.

They recognize each other at the same time. Zayn stops in his tracks, looking spooked. Then he bows his head and continues forward.

Louis stops, shocked. His phone hangs limply from his sweaty palm.

Zayn walks right up to him, brazen as anything, and looks him right in the eye. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” Louis immediately snaps, foregoing any opportunity to be civil. He doesn’t like surprises, particularly nasty ones, and from last March onward Zayn has felt to him like nothing but one nasty surprise after another.

“Liam texted me,” Zayn says, unfazed. “Would have thought he’d warned you. Sorry.”

“He didn’t,” Louis says, his voice higher than he’d like it to be.

“Cool,” Zayn responds, his expression remaining perfectly impassive even as a bit of ice creeps into his tone. “Anyway… it’s room four hundred five?”

“I’ll show you in,” Louis says, and dogs his heels the entire way back to Liam’s room. He’s being obnoxious and bratty, he knows, but being able to stop is another matter entirely.

They step in the doorway at the same time, and Liam's face lights up. He's still peaked and clammy, but he's getting pinker. He's warm in the eyes and smiley from the morphine.

“My boys,” he says fondly as they walk inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Yeah,” Louis mutters, shrugging his blazer off and tossing it over a bureau toward the side of the room. “Your boys…”

“Didn't think you'd come,” Liam says to Zayn.

Zayn pulls up a chair next to his bed. “Didn't have much else goin’ on, honestly,” he says, and squeezes Liam's bicep. “Some shit rooftop party. You don't look so hot, Li.”

“Well, I've got a silicone tube up my dick,” Liam says, and they laugh.

Louis approaches the bed but stays in front of Liam's feet, keeping as far from Zayn as he can without being obvious about it.

“So what did the surgeon say?” he says, folding his arms. “Your mum’s up to date, but she'd like you to call her.”

“She said they'll take me up to pre-op in the next half hour or so,” Liam says, as he picks lint balls off the scratchy knitted blanket over his legs. He's got a small bruise on his arm from where they took blood. “It's about a three or four hour surgery.”

“I can stay,” Zayn says.

Louis jerks his head up. “You can stay?” he repeats flatly.

“Less Louis’d rather I _don't_ stay,” Zayn says, cutting his eyes at him.

“Nooo, stay,” Liam says, and shoots a pleading look at Louis.

Zayn turns to him and fixes him with a weary, baleful look. “Thought maybe we could talk, finally. While we wait for ‘im to come out.”

Louis feels like he's been put very intensely on the spot, and resents it.

“Ah… yeah,” he says, trying not to clench his jaw. “We can get some coffee and… ah... talk, if you like. Fine. I'm going to go take a piss, now.”

“Show-off,” Liam says with a laugh.

Louis gives him a small smile. “Call your mum,” he instructs, and leaves the room.

From the hall, he can hear them talking quietly and chuckling. He knows it's petty, but he hates the sound of it.

Louis wanders toward the cafe, desperately wanting coffee.

“Is that --’ey! Louis!”

He turns to see Niall and Harry rushing toward him, dodging a woman who's walking by dragging an IV stand.

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” he groans. “Thank Christ.”

“Happy to see us?” Niall says, beaming. He's ruddy and swaying back and forth, clearly tossed. “Where's Leeyum?”

Louis does his best not to roll his eyes. “In his room,” he says. “But he's got king knob of twatville in there with him.”

“ _Zayn’s_ here?” Harry says, twigging instantly.

Louis nods.

Harry runs his hands through his hair and turns to Niall. “Sooo… I'm too drunk to deal with that.”

Niall shrugs. “No worries, I'll go see ‘im.”

“Room four hundred and five,” Louis says wearily.

Harry waves goodbye to Niall and tugs Louis by his arm toward the waiting room.

“Hospitals are so dead at night,” Harry comments. “Creepy.”

He's buzzy, from drinking and from just getting off having fun, and Louis feels alienated by his good cheer. There's a lump in his throat that he can't swallow down, and his stomach feels like a stagnant pond of bile. He feels like he's been at the hospital for ages.

When they sit he pulls out his phone and texts Paddy, who gets back to him saying that traffic’s been so bad he's only just turning back from the hotel now. Louis tosses his phone aside, ignoring the other texts that are piling up, and rests his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands.

He feels a large hand rubbing his back. “Louis,” Harry says softly, sounding concerned.

“I'm fine,” Louis says, immediately. “I'm fine.”

“You're not... you're upset and worried.”

“Well, what am I going to do about it? ‘S not _me_ in the hospital bed.”

“Are we alone?” Harry says, very quietly. “Like is anyone going to walk in here?”

Louis looks up. The clerking desk across from the sitting area is empty, save for someone copying files way in the back, and he can't hear any footsteps.

“Don't think so,” he says. “It might be shift change, or something. And everyone else's in bed.”

“Well,” Harry says, and he clears his throat. “I was just going to say, you know, you're not just his friend or his bandmate anymore. You're his…”

Harry struggles for the right word. Louis rescues him by motioning for him to just move on.

“Anyway, it makes sense to be more upset and frightened than you think you have a right to be.”

Louis thinks about that.

“Yeah,” he allows. “That’s true.”

He turns and glances at Harry. Harry's hair is loose over his shoulders and his cheeks are pink from drinking; he's glassy-eyed and looks far away, but happy.

“Thanks for not wanting to see Zayn,” he says.

Harry makes a comical face of dislike. “Duh.”

“Uch... I'm imagining them in there being all _chummy_ , like,” Louis says.

“Chummy chums,” Harry says. He smiles crookedly at Louis. “Niall forgives Zayn less than he lets on, you know.”

Louis hates how happy he is to hear this. “Yeah?”

“He just likes harmony,” Harry says. “You know how he is... he's bad at conflict, he runs away from it. He's smart, Niall. Bit of a weasel in some ways. A lovable one. But he gets away with _murder_.”

“‘Course he does, he's Baby Spice.”

Harry has a good laugh at that. “Hey, I have a joke for you,” he says. “Sort of dark… medical humor.”

“Is it bad?”

“Oh, it's terrible.”

“Excellent, let’s have it.”

“So,” Harry says. “This man goes into the doctor. Doctor says… I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid you're terminally ill. You haven't got much time at all.”

“Brilliant start to a joke.”

“So the patient says… no, wait, I'm fucking it up,” Harry says, and starts laughing. “Shit. The _doctor_ says, you've only got ten to live.”

“Ten what?”

“Well, exactly, the patient goes, ten what? And the doctor goes, he goes, nine… eight… seven…”

Harry spreads his arms and looks expectantly at Louis, who manages a weak snort.

“That really is an awful one, Harold,” he says.

“I got a snort out of you, it's fine,” Harry says, and stretches his long legs out across the aisle. “That's a win for me.”

The phrasing reminds Louis of Simon, and he makes a face. “How's the management situation, or shouldn’t I ask?” he says to Harry.

Harry bites his lip and runs his hand through his hair again, like he's on the cover of a Harlequin novel.

“It's alright,” he says. “Shockingly, being myself isn't as damaging to my brand as Modest had always feared.”

“Imagine that.”

“So, that's been good. I've gotten quite a bit of good press. I’m sure you've seen these op-eds, but some people like the way I came out, they're calling it very honest and unguarded and ballsy, all that. Like I'm Beyoncé...”

“Don't get a massive head, now,” Louis gently ribs him. “Just remember no matter how many thinkpieces they write, you're the George, not the John.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Harry says, grinning slyly.

“Aye, and you ought to.”

Harry puts his feet up on the coffee table, accidentally kicking a magazine onto the floor and making a funny drunken face of dismay at it. “You know, I just… I hope it's all worth it in the end.”

“It will be,” Louis says, and he's surprised how sure he sounds. “No, lad, it will be.”


	12. Chapter 12

Louis and Harry loiter outside of Liam’s room, waiting for Niall to finish his well-wishing.

“Can we just kick him out?” Harry says. “Show him he’s not welcome?”

“Zayn?” Louis says, amused. He leans against the wall. “Glass ‘im, maybe?”

“ _Glass hiiiiim,_ ” Harry echoes in a quiet voice. It’s an old inside joke, from the last time they played Boston and Louis had spent a night running around with some local toughs from the hardcore scene.

“Heave him out a window, maybe?” Louis continues.

“Too bad we’re only on the second floor,” Harry says somberly, and Louis laughs in an excessively hearty way that betrays how stressed he is.

“Since when’re we so awful?” Louis says, ears pricked for any noise from the room.

“I blame you,” Harry says. “I was quite innocent before you got ahold of me.”

He flashes a smile at Louis so he knows he isn’t serious.

The door opens and Niall pokes his head out.

“What’s so funny out here?” he says, grinning. “It’s a fuckin’ hospital, ya knobs.”

“Summat stupid. How’s the lima bean?” Louis says, and stifles a yawn.  

“Alright. I assume he’ll be feelin’ better when they yank that massive rock out of his pole.”

“It’s probably not in his willy right now, actually,” Harry says. “It’s ‘round up in his pelvis, somewhere.”

Louis and Niall both stare at him. He shrugs.

“I did some reading on my phone on the way over,” he says.

“Anyway,” Niall says, and comes out in the hall, closing the door behind him. “I told Zayn he should get out of dodge for a mo, so you could go in, Harry.”

“Mmm,” Harry says impassively. “Thanks.”

Louis feels a stab of anxiety, remembering that Zayn wants to spend an entire four hours alone with him hashing out their mutual anger while Liam lies unconscious on an operating table.

“Well, hurry him up,” he says sharply, without really meaning to.

Niall gives him a look that’s half-sympathetic, half- _get it together, Tommo_ , but he cracks the door again and says, “Oi! Zayn. Me ‘n Harry are about to head out.”

There’s some murmured conversation between Zayn and Liam, which drives Louis insane. He keeps getting the urge to burst into the room demanding to know what they’re talking about.

A chair scrapes the floor. There are footsteps, and then Zayn appears.

Tension descends on the four of them. Louis’ nerves are already jangling incessantly, and he wishes Zayn would just leave, just start walking toward the elevator without a word and disappear from their lives for good. Liam would be crushed, but in time he'd grow to understand what Louis already knows: you can't trust your heart with someone who always has an ulterior motive.

“Harry,” Zayn says, like he's pleading with him.

Harry straightens up and looks Zayn dead in the eye. He gives him a curt nod and walks right past him, brushing shoulders with him, and disappears into Liam's room.

Zayn swallows. His handsome face is a grim picture of barely disguised anger.

“We’re gonna head t’ Kendrick’s party after this,” Niall says, mostly to Louis.

Louis nods.

A nurse approaches them. “Any family of Liam Payne here?” she says, clearing her throat.

“His family's not here, but I'm here with him,” Louis says, turning to her. “What's up?”

“They have a ton of gifts and flowers and things from him downstairs,” she says. “If you wanted to go pick them up to put in his room.”

Louis squints at her. “How many, now?”

“Oh, like fifty things have been delivered in the last half hour,” she says. “Too many of them to bring up. I'll let them know you're coming down.”

As she walks away, Louis finally takes a look at his texts. At least thirty of his friends have texted him, some asking if he's in the hospital with Liam. Michael Malarky sent, _someone on twitter said u and payne were in a car accident??? What happened man_

“What's up?” Niall says, noticing his face.

“I guess it's really gotten out,” Louis mutters. “That he's in hospital, I mean. People think we were in a car wreck.”

“You want to sit down for a mo, get it sorted?” Zayn says. Louis looks at him in surprise.

“Ah, yeah, s'pose I should,” he says.

Zayn inclines his head toward the waiting room and they head over together.

“I'll pop in before we leave,” Niall calls, and Louis puts his hand up in acknowledgement.

They sit. At the clerking desk, two bored-looking women work on what looks like endless amounts of paperwork and chat quietly to each other.

Louis diligently sends out a copy and pasted text to all of them that says _im fine, payno is in hospital but it’s nothing serious_. He makes his way down the list until he sees Hattie has texted him, as well.

He doesn’t want to, but he opens it.

_What is the story? Spoke briefly with Paddy who said Liam has a kidney stone?? You're with him yeah? Where are you_

He thinks about not texting back at all, but he tells her the name of the hospital and nothing else.

Louis leans back, an arm over his eyes.

“Alright?” Zayn says.

“Can we not do this?” Louis says. “This bit, where we pretend we're great pals? We're not, and I'm close to losing my fuckin’ ‘ead from how shit this night has been, and I haven't got a single ounce of patience for this supposed new and improved Zayn.”

Zayn crossed his arms, looking off into middle space. He chews the inside of his cheek. “Don't have to take a run at me, mate. Sorry about your shit night.”

“Hey, you don't _get_ to be the bigger person!” Louis yells. “And act like I'm just a stubborn arse! It'll take more than a little nicey nice to fix things!”

“Sir, excuse me,” one of the women at the desk calls. “This is a hospital, please lower your voice.”

Zayn's leg is bouncing in irritation. He continues to not look at Louis.

Louis looks down at his own hands in his lap, and as if he's possessed, his gaze is dragged steadily over to his bus 1 tattoo. He has a sudden and brief urge to claw at his own skin like an animal.

“Liam's fine, you know,” Zayn says. “Me dad’s had these, an’ a gallstone, they're nothin’, ‘specially not in one of the best hospitals in the country.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I _know_ that.”

“Then why are you throwing a shit fit at me tha’s clearly not actually about me?” Zayn snaps.

Louis jumps to his feet and leaves the room, trembling with barely restrained annoyance.

He stalks into Liam's room, where they all look at him with an almost parental sort of concern. Liam’s face is the worst for it, but Louis can’t possibly be mad at him for his paternalism when he’s sat there in a sad little hospital gown, with dark bags under his eyes and a pulse oximeter on his finger.

“Hey,” Niall says. “Can you yell at Zayn louder next time, ‘cos I don't think you woke the whole hospital up.”

“Fuck off,” Louis says genially. “Payno, when're they taking you up?”

Liam shrugs. “Soon, I think. You know how hospitals are, I'll be the last to know.”

Harry gets up. “Text us when you're awake,” he says to Liam. “Or I guess Louis can text us.”

“Aye, I'll let you know when he's up and talking.”

“Liam on anaesthesia,” Harry says, gathering up his blazer. “He'll be even more incoherent than usual...”

“Hey,” Liam complains. “You're rude, Styles. And you know I've had too much morphine to come back at you.”

“Eh, enjoy that while it lasts,” Niall says.

He shakes Liam's hand and grins at him.

“Cheers, Payno, sorry about your cock,” he says, and then turns to Louis. “And Tommo, I guess sorry to you about his cock, since it belongs to you now.”

Louis didn't expect this at all and laughs bawdily.

“I'll live,” he says, with a wicked grin. Liam looks absolutely mortified.

They depart in a cheerful chaos of goodbyes and Louis moves close to Liam's bedside again, stroking his hair and staring at the IV in his arm.

“I really will be fine, love,” Liam murmurs.

“I know you will,” Louis says. “It's not just this, it's everythin’...”

Liam pulls him in close, kissing his head and stroking his hair. “Can I make it better for you?”

“Nah, ‘cos right now I'm trying to figure out how to make it better for _you_ ,” Louis says, laughing and drawing back so he can look at him. He strokes Liam's face. 

“I called my parents, by the way,” Liam says. 

“Good, good.”

Liam’s quiet for a moment, then suddenly says, “D’you think Harry’s okay?” 

“Why, he say something?” Louis says, reaching behind him and pulling the chair closer to the bed so he can sit. He takes Liam’s hand.

Liam takes a deep breath and then sighs. “No, he didn’t say anything… we talked at the bar. I think he’s sort of like, shaken and in shock. More than he’s letting on.”

Louis squeezes his hand. “He’s good at dealing with this type of thing, we should let ‘im get on with it. Sometimes I think bringing it up over and over just makes it worse. Y’know, he’s got so many people advising him how to play it and asking if he made the right choice, it might be nice if we let him be free of all that when he’s with us.”

“Well,” Liam says, miffed. “He  _ wanted _ to talk about it.”

“No, no, no, I’m sure he did, lad. I’m not saying you brought it up to him.”

Liam squints like he’s trying to remember. “I mean… I might have, actually. But he  _ did _ want to talk about it.”

“Look, you know how he is. Let him get on with it, and if he needs support, he’ll reach out. And we can talk business when you’re better --”

The door opens behind them. Louis drops Liam’s hand and turns around.

“Hello-o,” Dr Tapper says cheerfully, walking in with two nurses behind him. “Finally time to head up to pre-op. Dr Sullivan is scrubbed in, and all she needs to start is our patient here.”

Louis nods and looks to Liam, who wears an expression of steely resignation. 

“Let’s have it, then,” Louis says, standing up. 

“Walk up with me?” Liam says to him, touching him on the hip.

“Course,” Louis says firmly, and he follows Liam’s gurney out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam goes into surgery, and Louis and Zayn have a talk.

Louis stumbles into the elevator, feeling lost and dead on his feet from exhaustion.

There’s a waiting room on the surgery floor as well, but this one actually has some people in it: grey-faced, nervous people, bouncing their legs and checking their watches over and over. He knew he couldn’t stand waiting there.

“I’ll come downstairs and get you as soon as we’re done,” Dr Sullivan had promised him as Liam’s gurney was wheeled away, and he had backed up while nodding, not wanting to see them take him in.

Liam flipped him off for that. “I see you pussying out on me, Tommo!” he called, with a wan grin.

Louis grinned back. “Oi, get on with it, then,” he yelled back, and got the hell out of there before he said anything more emotional than that.

It isn’t how most couples would do it, but they aren’t most couples.

The elevator dings and he finds himself on the second floor again. The only noises he can hear are nurses talking down the hall and the soft buzz of a floor waxer.

Louis stands frozen long enough for the doors to begin to close again. He stops them with his arm and walks out, toward the waiting room.

Zayn is right where Louis left him, sitting with his shoulders slumped in his leather jacket and thumbing through an old copy of Vogue with his phone on the seat next to him.

He looks up at Louis, and neither of them say anything for a moment.

“He’s in surgery now,” Louis finally says.

Zayn nods. A lock of his quiff falls into his eyes and he pushes it back. “Alright. Paddy came by, he dropped off all the gifts from downstairs in Liam’s room, an’ then he went for a smoke.”

“Good,” Louis says stiffly.

“Want to sit?”

“Not particularly,” Louis says. It comes out more tersely than he means it to, so he adds, “Just ‘cos I’m like to die if I don’t get a cup of coffee soon. Want to join me?”

Zayn stands. “Aye, yeah.”

The cafe is empty, but there’s a machine for self-checkout. Louis finds himself glad that there’s no one around. It’s hard for him and Zayn to speak anymore without it becoming a scene.

He pours a large black coffee for himself, and after a moment of internal debate grabs a packaged honey bun to ring up as well.

They take two of the seats at a four-top, facing each other, both with their elbows on the table and leaning forward in a way that feels nearly adversarial.

“What time have you got?” Louis says, after he downs several sips of coffee.

“Ah…” Zayn looks at his phone. “Nearly two.”

Louis tears open the honey bun and stares at it.

“Feels later than that,” he says.

Awkward silence stretches between them.

“We can talk about the weather, too, if y’like,” Zayn says. “Warm night.”

“Well, it’s August in Los Angeles,” Louis says.

“I was jokin’, Louis, it’s a joke. Look at me, please?”

Louis drags his gaze upward and to Zayn’s face. Tension pools in the lines of his jaw and the space under his cheekbones. “Alright,” he says coolly. “I’m looking at you.”

Zayn runs his tongue over his teeth. “‘S a start.”

“I’ve even got a question for you,” Louis says. “Why did you never answer my texts after you left? You dropped off the face of the earth.”

Zayn sips his coffee before answering, and Louis spends the intervening time tearing irritably at the honey bun, which he finds himself neurotically reluctant to eat.

“I wanted to make a clean break at first,” Zayn says. “An’ when I finally came ‘round and wanted to talk, you’d already gone so chilly on me. It hurt.”

“What did you honestly expect?” Louis demands. “You _know_ me. Or I thought you did, anyway.”

“I can’t be blamed for leavin’,” Zayn says, sitting back and staring resolutely to his left, out the window. He drums his fingers on the table. “I’m doin’ me best to be patient with what you’ve got to say to me, but --”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis snaps, and he stands. “You don’t get to be _patient_ with me. It’s me that’s being patient sitting here listening to you, when frankly, Zayn? I don’t bloody _give_ a fuck if you’re in my life or not! I don’t sit around weeping over you -- in fact, with the shit you’ve said about me in public, I should be thankful to be well shut of you!”

Shaking, he turns and walks away, running his hand through his hair.

“But I’m not, really,” he says, and he doesn’t want to say it, he doesn’t want to make himself vulnerable, but it comes out anyway. “I’m not. It feels like shit. So… that’s what you’ve done to me, I can’t even feel about you how I want to feel. On the whole, I’d rather not feel anything, but you won’t leave me alone, will you?”

Louis turns around and looks at Zayn, who is staring at him with a hard, pained look.

“Until I forgive you, or we really ruin it between us, or summat, you won’t leave me alone,” he says.

“I don’t want to,” Zayn pleads. “Not you, Louis. Please, not you.”

Louis shakes his head and looks away again. Looking at Zayn for too long hurts him; it’s a broad, aching kind of hurt.

“People don't always stay in each other's lives,” he says. “It's part of getting older.”

“Yeah, but it’s a _choice_ ,” Zayn says, sounding aggressive.

Louis comes back to the table and sits again, drinking his coffee. “Sometimes it's just natural.”

“But you can decide to fight it.”

“You didn't want to fight it,” Louis reminds him. “You wanted to move on and distance yourself from us, and from me, and you got what you sowed. Yeah, I'll admit, I don't like being left. You lost me as a close mate just by leaving, but you didn't have to lose my good will. You did that one all by yourself.”

“I was in a bad place,” Zayn pleads. “I was fucked up and letting people manipulate me --”

“You were letting Shahid manipulate you.”

“Him an’ others.”

“You --” Louis’ face flushes in anger and he looks away, his jaw tight. “You called me _bitchy_ \--”

“I regret it!” Zayn explodes. “So much, like! I’ve apologized and apologized, but you'll never let it die!”

“I _can't!_ ” Louis shouts. “If I just let everythin’ like that slide -- what do you want from me, Zayn? To be a different person? I was one of your best mates, I protected you, and you never had shite to say about my big mouth when I was. The moment I try to shield the fans from your bullshit, you pounce on me --”

“The _fans_ , please, you were jealous --”

Louis laughs a high-pitched mocking laugh. “Not bloody likely!”

He and Zayn are red in the face and sitting as far back from each other as possible.

“You were like -- like some divorced dad bringing his new little bird around our kids,” Louis snaps. “They're young, Zayn, a lot of these girls, and we’re important t’ them, and you used to understand that and respect it, even if you never actually gave a shit --”

“Some divorced dad? I keep hearin’ accusations from you that sound like they're not really _about_ me --”

Louis feels a hot stab of anger and stands up again. “Oh, fuck off!”

“Don't walk away from me,” Zayn says.

Louis walks away and looks out into the hall, making sure no one is around. He comes back toward Zayn but doesn't sit; he stands hovering, arms folded, staring down at Zayn with flinty anger. Zayn stares back at him defiantly.

“You can't keep pushing certain buttons of mine,” Louis warns him. “You know what they are. I'll walk out of your life forever, mate. I won't even make an effort anymore.”

Zayn snorts. “This is you makin’ an effort?”

“Aye, yeah, it is.”

“You don't even care,” Zayn says, and shivers like it's cold in the room. “That I'm not doing well, you don’t care.”

“You're not doing well?” Louis says. “News to me.”

“You know what I mean,” Zayn says, accusatory.

He slides down in his chair, fiddling with his watch.

“I'm not handling it all that well,” he continues. “Just… this thing, of bein’ solo, not havin’ anyone to carry an interview if you can't do it. Not having people to talk you down from a weird trip or stay up with you late after a show, things like ‘at. All the drugs, and y’know, people used to get mad at you an’ me if we did too much coke or too much molly and we were bein’ hard to deal with and now those same people on me team are givin’ me the drugs and saying _go ahead, loosen up_ \--”

“The word no, it's quite helpful,” Louis says, staring down at him, feeling a queasy mix of emotional distance and sympathy.

“Never really had the option,” Zayn says nastily. “Now I've forgotten how to use it.”

“Dry your eyes with some of your millions, lad.”

“So you can complain about these things, but I can't? Nice,” Zayn says. “Real fair.”

Louis spreads his hands. “I don't complain about much, quite honestly. I'm grateful for what I have right now, I know how quick it can disappear.”

“Enlightened of you,” Zayn says. “Spendin’ a lot of time with Harry?”

Louis shakes his head. “Stop right there. I’m not getting in the middle of that.”

“Fine,” Zayn snaps.

They’re silent for a moment, letting their anger ebb.

“D’you, ah, d’you want to go smoke?” Zayn says.

“God, yeah,” Louis says. He leans over and downs the rest of his coffee. The honey bun is left abandoned, torn into bits.

Outside, the night is oppressively humid. They huddle under an awning. Louis keeps his eyes peeled for paps; Hattie has texted him that Liam being in hospital is already getting coverage on blogs and all over Twitter.

The last thing he needs is to be papped with Zayn, and then have the topic brought up to him a million times over the next week. He doesn’t want to see speculation on trashy gossip sites, doesn’t want Oli to text him asking what the hell he’s doing hanging around with this berk, doesn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of crowing that they knew it was only a matter of time before they were speaking again. 

“Got a light?” Zayn says.

Louis hands him one.

“They won’t be able to find us out here, if something goes wrong,” he says quietly, mostly to himself.

Zayn shakes his head. “Nothin’s wrong.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Nothin’s wrong. Look, ‘e’s probably well under the anesthesia by now, right? So that’s the most dangerous thing about the surgery, and if he was going to react badly, he already would’ve done.”

Louis breathes slowly out of his nose and lights his cigarette. “I s’pose.”

Zayn studies him, and releases some smoke from his mouth. “You’re really worried about ‘im.”

Louis shrugs his shoulders irritably. He doesn’t like Zayn sniffing around anywhere near their relationship. “This whole thing was unexpected, is all.”

“Congrats on the win, by the way,” Zayn says.

“Thanks,” Louis says. “Sorry about the loss.”

Zayn shrugs. “”S only the VMAs.”

“D’you have any pot on you?” Louis says.

“Shit, no... Left it in the car.”

Louis sighs. “S’alright, I’m just jittery from the coffee.”

“I’ve got xannies,” Zayn says, glancing at him.

“I shouldn’t, I’ve been drinking.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

Louis blows out some smoke. “Thanks,” he says genuinely.

“I mean, if you did pass out,” Zayn says, and gestures behind them, “least we’re at a hospital, right?”

Louis laughs. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

They smoke in silence for a few minutes. Louis feels flayed emotionally, like all of his raw nerves are exposed to the air and twitching in pain. Zayn’s mere presence is hurtful; the sound of his voice, his face, even the way he smells were once all things that comforted Louis and lit him up inside, and now they needle at him.

Everything that reminds him of Zayn hurts. Everything that reminds him of what a fool he was -- what a trusting, open-hearted, sappy fool -- hurts, everything that reminds him of how blindsided and betrayed he was, that reminds him of the night right after he left when they all remained silent during his _You And I_ solo, avoiding eye contact with each other while their hearts burned in their chests. Everything that reminds him of late nights in April with Liam, asking him, _What did we miss? What didn’t we see?_ until Liam was exhausted and red-eyed, begging him, _Please let’s not talk about it anymore, please let’s just sleep_. 

Everything that reminds Louis of his uncharacteristic optimism in that stretch of days before they knew, of things like that stupid fucking note he wrote out for a fan promising Zayn would be back soon: it all hurts.

Louis had gotten a gruesome chill in his veins when they were pulled into that emergency meeting and told the truth, remembering how breezily nonchalant he’d been about his absence, remembering the note and how confidently he’d been thinking to himself, _Zayn would have rung me up if something was really wrong. He would have told me_. How arrogant he’d been! How blindly secure in their bond! Throughout the day of March 25 and for several days after, a line from _Homeland_ kept ringing in his ears: ‘ _I have never been_ so _sure, and_ so _wrong.’_

“Your cig is burning,” Zayn points out.

Louis looks over at him in the darkness. His eyes are shadowed and unreadable. The thick summer air surrounds them, sticky and salty.

“Yeah,” he says. He drops it to the ground and steps on it.

 

/

 

The next few hours drag on. Louis is bored out of his mind, but nothing he does occupies his mind; he’s too distracted by worry.

He goes through his mentions on Twitter, which he’s been avoiding since Harry came out. They aren’t too bad, but then, his tweets lately have been quite innocuous. His last one was the day before they left London, and all he said was “Buzzin to be back in the land of in n out” with a sunglasses emoji.

“@louis_tomlinson are u okay?? is @Real_Liam_Payne okay? PLEASE TWEET SO WE KNOW U ARENT DEAD!!!!!!!” someone tweeted at him a few seconds ago. He snorts affectionately and favourites it to assuage her fears.

“Huh?” Paddy grunts from his seat beside him.

“Nothing,” he says. “Fans…”

“They worried about him?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I don’t want to say anything on his behalf, he should be the one to let everyone know he’s alright.”

“He texted me earlier that he wants to do a Snapchat with both of us, so prepare yourself,” Paddy says with fond amusement in his voice.

Louis laughs. “Yeah, we can humor him on that.”

“So, does anyone know that, uh…” Paddy inclines his head toward Zayn, who’s sitting down the row from them, dozing in and out of a catnap. “ _He’s_ here?”

“‘M not asleep,” Zayn calls in a crackly, sleepy voice. “‘N I dunno if anyone knows ‘m here, but I ‘aven’t heard anythin’.”

“Reps haven’t mentioned it, so I assume not,” Louis says. “They monitor Twitter pretty well.”

Paddy studies him curiously. “Not feeling so friendly about your team, eh?”

Louis sits up, surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“You just got pretty tense.”

“Well…” Louis clears his throat. “We’re in a bit of a spat, right now.”

“Yeah, I got that impression from the meeting,” Paddy says. “Not that I heard any specifics, just that there was some shouting going on, then Lisa and Simon storming out like the Noonan brothers. Thought they were about to crack a few skulls. Are you leaving ‘em for Full Stop?”

Louis becomes aware that Zayn has suddenly gone very still, like he’s concentrating on their voices.

“No idea yet,” he says, cutting the conversation short. “We’ll see.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam wakes up.

Pink dawn is filtering through the window of the waiting room and Louis is in a delirious state of half-sleep when he hears Dr Sullivan’s voice.

“Louis Tomlinson?”

Louis shakes himself awake instantly, rubbing his eyes and staggering to his feet. “Wha, what is it, how is he, what’s happened?” he says, all in a rush. Behind him, Paddy and Zayn are stirring.

Dr Sullivan stands in front of him in her scrubs and surgical cap, looking a tired but deeply pleased with herself. “It went beautifully,” she says. “A total breeze, we were finished in just under three and half hours and the imaging showed no stones left. He’s doing great, and he actually started coming out of the anaesthesia a few minutes ago.”

“Brilliant,” Louis breathes, feeling his entire body lighten with relief. “Fantastic, thanks so much.”

She waves her hand. “It’s my job. So, he’s been asking for you quite a bit.”

Zayn clears his throat. Louis’ face gets hot. “Yeah?”

“Yes. He’s not fully awake yet, it’ll be another twenty minutes or so, but I wanted to take you to see him so he feels more comfortable.”

Dr Sullivan gestures for him to follow her.

“Yeah, yeah, course, absolutely, I’m coming,” Louis says. He grabs Paddy’s bottle of water off the table and as he walks behind her, dips his fingers into it so he can rub the sleep from his eyes. There’s a painful crick in his neck. He thinks longingly of their hotel, with its soft beds and silky sheets.

“So, you two are pretty close?” Dr Sullivan says as she holds the elevator door open for him. “You and Liam?”

“Ah, pretty close, aye,” Louis says, settling his back against the wall. His throat feels tight.

“That’s good,” she says. “You’re a good friend for staying. We get a lot of celebrities in here, obviously, and sometimes the people who accompany them can be pretty callous about their needs. I’ve had a publicist ask me if I could somehow cut a five hour surgery down to two hours because their client had to be on Fallon that night.”

“Christ,” Louis says, thinking of Syco. Mike would never do that to any of them. He’s struck again by his recurring fear that changing labels might be a terrible idea; that wherever they go next might treat them worse, or understand them less. He pushes the thought from his head.

“Yeah, I had the same reaction.” She laughs. “Will you be around for the next few days?”

“Absolutely,” Louis says, without hesitation.

The elevator doors open and they step out into the hall. The hospital is busier now, full of nurses and doctors who are just coming on their shift. Louis feels comfortable around medical types; they remind him of his mum.

“Okay, good,” she says. “He’ll have to stay here all day today so we can monitor him. He can go home after that, but he’ll need the drains removed on Wednesday. We can have a doc come out to where you’re staying to do it, if you want. No big deal.”

Louis rubs his forehead. “So, next few days here, he won’t be like, running around, partying…”

“Oh, God no! No, please keep that idea out of his head. He needs to rest as much as possible.”

“It’s just it’s his birthday today,” Louis says, falling into step with her.

Dr Sullivan shakes her head. “I’m sorry about that. It’s not great timing, but there’s nothing we can do. Okay, the recovery room that he’s in is around the corner here. Just go on in, he’s with a nurse. I’ve got to go, I’m being paged.”

“Thanks again,” Louis tells her, and she waves goodbye.

The recovery room is dark and quiet, with a row of identical curtained-off beds stretching out in front of him. Monitors beep steadily. A nurse looks up from her computer as he steps inside.

“Liam Payne?”

“Curtain area three,” she tells him.

Louis hurries over, so fast that he surprises himself. He can’t get the absurd thought out of his head that it won’t be Liam behind the curtain, that there’s some terrible mistake and Liam’s been misplaced or killed.

He tosses open the curtain. Liam is lying there, his eyes puffy and his skin grayish and pale. He groans wordlessly.

“Payno,” Louis calls to him. He drags a chair over beside his bed and sits. “I’m here, I’m here.”

“Louis,” Liam says softly, opening his eyes ever so slightly. Louis’ throat tightens even more, and he bites his lip. Liam weakly waggles the tips of his fingers and Louis grabs his hand, holding it tightly.

“Did I have…” Liam swallows. “Surgery? I had surgery?”

“Aye, you had a bit of surgery.”

Liam squints up at the ceiling, seeming puzzled. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Remind me later… about that…”

“I think you’ll remember later, lad, you’re just coming out of the anaesthesia now.”

“Ohh,” Liam says, blinking. His throat sounds rough. “Should have… said.”

“Sorry, that should have been at the top of my list. I can come back in and go again,” Louis says, smiling. “Take it from the top.”

Liam laughs and then coughs. “One… two…”

“Three… four…”

“I miss that,” Liam says. His voice is slightly stronger, now.

“Music?”

“I miss music,” Liam says. “Miss you.”

“I’m right here, lad.”

“When I woke up. Missed you.”

“What, five minutes ago? Get a grip, Payno,” he teases. “I can’t be with you every second.”

Liam squeezes his hand. “Want you to be.”

Louis’ heart flutters. “Want some ice chips?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Louis grabs the styrofoam cup of ice and brings it back to Liam, taking some with his fingers and feeding the chips to him. He thinks of how strange and circular life is, that just a few days earlier Liam was shoving his strong fingers into Louis’ mouth while they had wanton, primal sex, and now he’s putting his fingers so gently into Liam’s mouth because Liam is helpless and in pain.

His heart aches with love. For a moment, he's overwhelmed by a solemn, intense connection to the institution of couplehood.

Satisfied by the ice, Liam closes his eyes again and seems close to nodding off again. Louis settles down in the chair and watches him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam spends his birthday in the hospital. Lottie surprises Louis.

Liam’s birthday in the hospital drags on and on. He’s desperate to leave, but is continually advised not to. Louis sides with the doctors and feels like a rat for doing so, but Liam doesn’t hold it against him at all.

Zayn leaves right after seeing Liam in the morning, ensuring that he’s alive and giving him his best. Liam has his room back at that point, and is now a cheerful bearded face surrounded by a sea of flowers, birthday gifts and baskets.

Zayn and Louis have a shorter goodbye out in the hall.

“Right, mate,” Zayn says, holding out his hand for Louis to shake it. “Please g’ us a ring sometime… an’ not just to scream at me, if you don’t mind.”

Louis has to laugh. He puts his own hand out, but hesitates. “I’ll give you that,” he says, “if you promise to stop slammin’ me in the press.”

Zayn clucks his tongue. “Who’s been _slammin’_ you? … Fine. I won’t bring you up anymore, ‘less they ask. If they do, I’ll jus’ say we’re talking now and nothin’ else. Deal?”

“Deal,” Louis says, and they shake.

Louis calls his mum to assure her that everything is fine, and then he and Paddy go out for milkshakes.

They sit in the hospital parking lot for a while, slowly sipping them and dreading returning to the sterile walls of Liam’s floor.

“It’s actually gorgeous today,” Paddy says. “Pity he’s stuck inside on his birthday, y’know? Wonder if we can wheel him outside for a bit.”

“Like _Breaking Bad_?” Louis says. “Roll me further, bitch!”

He cracks up, and Paddy gives him a sidelong look. “You’re punchy, lad.”

When they get back inside, Liam corrals both of them for a hospital bed Snapchat. Then Nicola stops by, and he bums her laptop off her to compose a lengthy Twitlonger thanking the fans for all of their concern and for the VMAs win, assuring them that he’s fine, and exhorting them to donate to Trekstock for his birthday.

“He seems quite... hearty, considering?” Nicola says to Louis, as Liam clacks urgently away at her keyboard like he’s the prime minister. Louis just snorts.

Harry and Niall each call separately. Niall is fixated on the gory details of the surgery, asking what parts of Liam were sliced into and in what ways, while Harry is more concerned with his emotional state.

“You should meditate!” Harry exclaims. Liam has him on speaker, and rolls his eyes at Louis upon hearing this. “You’ll heal faster that way. Please, Liam. I can send you some files of chants, I’ve got loads.”

He goes on to inform them that _Rolling Stone_ has reached out to him for a rush job cover feature on his coming out.

“This is the fastest Annie Leibovitz is going to turn a cover shoot around in her whole career,” he says. “Apparently, she’s a bit mardy about it. But, like, I’m giving them a massive exclusive, so how much can they complain?”

“You should have gone with _Attitude,_ ” Liam says. “I like _Attitude_ , they were quite kind to me. Made me look good, too.”

“I wanted a bit more exposure than that,” Harry says.

“So, lad, are you posing naked again?” Louis says, amused.

“Probably not this time...”

Well-wishers trickle in and out all afternoon, some of them Liam’s friends and some friends of Louis or the band in general. The flowers pile up so much that the nurses have to bring another extra table in, which is soon covered as well. Eventually, Paddy starts just setting them on the floor.

“You know, this is a safety hazard,” Melinda informs them when she comes in to check Liam’s catheter and has to step over a bouquet of daisies that Fifth Harmony sent.

“Right, is there someone we can bribe to ignore that?” Liam says. “Quick, Tommo, get out your wallet.”

Louis laughs heartily. Melinda is unamused.

Karen is on the phone with Liam throughout the day, at first insisting that she and Geoff fly out, and then arguing with Liam, who remains adamant that they don't.

“It's an all-day flight, mum!” he exclaims during their three PM call. “I'll be out by the evening, there's truly no point now.”

He goes quiet, and Louis puts down his magazine to pay attention to the conversation.

“Yes, I suppose you could, but there isn't any point,” he says. “Louis can take care of me.”

Louis inhales and pretends like he isn't madly curious to hear what Karen is saying in response to that.

“He's right here,” Liam says, glancing up at Louis. He fiddles with his IV tube and sighs. “Yes, he knows what to watch out for, the doctor explained. And I can look after myself as well, you know.”

He makes a face. “When have I ever... oh, mum, tattoos aren't the same! I _wanted_ the tattoos. Well, I'm sorry, I truly am, but I did want them. At least when I got them, I did… No, I don't see how that's relevant.”

“Give us the phone,” Louis says, reaching his hand out. “C’mon, lad.”

“I'm handing you to Louis,” Liam tells her, and gives him the phone. “Please talk some sense to her,” he whispers.

“‘Lo, Karen,” Louis says, sing-songy.

Karen sighs. “Is he alright?”

Louis squints at Liam. “Course he is. You talked to his doctor, didn't you?”

“Well, they all lie like the Dickens, these American doctors. Leave sponges in people and act like they've done nothing wrong.”

“I don't think anyone's left a sponge in our Liam,” Louis promises. “The incision wasn't big enough, for starters.”

Liam chuckles.

“Right, well -- just keep me updated, will you, love?” she pleads.

“Absolutely,” Louis promises. “Every hour, Karen. I'm watchin’ him like a hawk.”

Karen sighs. “Thank God for you.”

Louis smiles at this. “Cheers,” he says, and hangs up.

Liam observes him. “So -- it's alright between you two now?”

“I think so,” Louis says, handing him his phone back and getting his own out. He takes a quick photo of Liam, whose hair is standing half on end.

“Let me see that,” Liam says. Louis shows him and he laughs his head off. “Holy shit. Put that up on Instagram, please.”

Lottie comes by later in the day, and practically drags Louis out of the hospital.

“You need a walk!” she insists, pulling him toward the hallway. “You need fresh air! You've been in the same suit for twenty-four hours!”

“He's having a Jack Bauer day,” Liam says. “Listen to her, Tommo, please. You look a wreck.”

“Oh, cheers!”

“Come _on_ ,” Lottie says, and he finally relents and follows her.

It's true that he hasn't left Liam's bedside all day. He's anxious about being away from him; as they slip out the side of the hospital and into a courtyard with palm trees and bright flowers all around, he keeps thinking of things he read online about incision infections and sepsis.

They sit down on a bench and each check their phones. After a moment, Lottie puts hers down and turns to him.

“What's up?” he says, looking back at her.

“I've got something to ask you,” she says. “And you can't have a strop at me about it.”

Louis’ mind floods with all manner of brotherly horrors and anxieties.

“I've got to know what it is before I can promise not to have a strop,” he says.

She rolls her eyes. “It's about you.”

“Me,” Louis repeats, surprised. “What've I done?”

“Nothing wrong,” Lottie assures him.

Louis squints at her, waiting. The sun is high in the sky, and hurts his eyes after hours and hours of fluorescents. The gardenia bushes next to them are giving off an oppressive smell; his nose tickles.

“Well?” he demands, then sneezes.

“I just wanted to ask you…” Lottie says. She stops and purses her lips. “This is going to sound beyond mad.”

“Try me.”

“I just wanted to make sure you're not... ah… a bit in love with Liam?”

Louis is utterly shocked; as far as he's concerned, the earth stops turning for several moments after she speaks. The last time he felt like this was several years ago; he had thought his car was in reverse when it was in drive, and had slammed forward into the garage wall.

He tries to take a normal breath. Lottie is gaping at him.

“Jesus bloody fuck,” she says. “ _Are_ you?”

“No! I mean... yeah! I mean -- me and Liam are... _together_ ,” Louis chokes out. “Lottie, where did this even _come_ from --”

“You're _together_?” Lottie shouts, goggling.

“Not so loud!”

“Since when? Wow. I knew it, I _knew_ it!”

“Since November,” Louis says weakly, and he sneezes again.

“ _November_? I can't believe this,” Lottie says, throwing her hands up in a spectacularly dramatic way. “I can't believe you haven't told me!”

“I felt awkward about it,” Louis confesses. “I just… I dunno. I don't have many excuses, I'm sorry. We’ve just sort of telling people as the moment felt right.”

“Does mum know?”

“Aye, she does.”

“Fuck, Louis!”

An older gentleman walks by, and they both remain silent until he passes. Lottie glares at Louis the entire time.

“Sorry!” Louis mouths. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“I mean, _really_!” Lottie exclaims as soon as the man’s passed them. “I'm your sister!”

“I know…!”

Lottie looks at him for a few moments, and then a happy grin tugs at her lips and spreads up her cheeks.

“This is so sweet,” she says. “It’s romantic. The way you look at him… I thought you were pining after him, but you're just here taking good care of the missus, aren't you?”

“Alright, alright,” Louis mutters, looking down. His face is hot.

“How long did you like each other before you got together?” she says.

“Aren't you going to ask me why I'm dating a bloke?” he rejoinders. “Isn't that more relevant?”

She just looks at him blithely and shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Right,” Louis muses, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket. “I don't understand your generation at all.”

He lights one and takes a few puffs.

“I'm not sure how long we did,” he says. “I s’pose for most of October, or maybe longer.”

“And you're proper boyfriends? You hold hands and snog and... do it, an’ everything?”

Louis blows out some smoke very forcefully. “I’m going to throw myself off the roof of the hospital if I have to answer to you whether or not I have sex with Liam.”

“That's a yes,” Lottie says cheerfully. “That's such a yes. Oh, my God, this is hysterical. I love this. You're so cute together!”

“I’m going to murder you,” Louis informs her.

“I can't believe people have bothered us about Larry for years and you're actually dating _Liam_ ,” she says. “This is like that bloke we studied in school, O’Henry? This is so like you, you're such a contrarian. It's because you're a Capricorn.”

“Murder,” Louis repeats, smoking. “I'm murdering you, straight away.”

“Oh, I'm so happy,” Lottie says, and she hugs him. He drops his cig and wraps an arm around her.

“I was worried all this year if somebody was taking care of you,” she mumbles into his blazer. “I'm so glad it's Liam. He's a good one, Louis, you hang onto him, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, love,” he tells her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam celebrates his birthday in LA. Louis confides in Harry, and then Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just broke 100k words on this series lmao wtf

_Liam Payne is recovering after a sudden surgery on his birthday, his rep has confirmed to JustJared.com._

_"_ _He fell ill after the VMA awards on Sunday and went into surgery, but is recovering well at a Los Angeles hospital and is expected to be fine," a rep for the 24-year-old crooner said in a statement to us._

_According to TMZ, Liam was rushed to Cedars-Sinai hospital and was seen by a kidney specialist. He had kidney troubles as a young boy, but a source at the hospital reported to TMZ that there was no cause for concern at this time._

_“What he suffered was actually common and very minor,” the source said. “The surgery was more for his comfort than anything else.”_

_The singer has been on Twitter all day, reassuring fans that he is a-okay and thanking them for their birthday wishes. Fellow One Direction member and good friend Louis Tomlinson reportedly stayed with him at the hospital, and featured in some of his bedridden Snapchats._

_TMZ reported on Twitter that ex-One Direction member Zayn was spotted getting into a car outside Cedars-Sinai and was likely visiting his former bandmate._

_Instagram star Serena Saavedra, who has been recently spotted canoodling with Liam, also visited the hospital with their mutual collaborator, rapper and producer Juicy J._

_We are sending good thoughts to Liam, and hope he recovers quickly!_

5 Comments

 

Jrock • 16 minutes ago

_Wait so Zayn and Louis were with Liam together at the hospital and they didn’t kill each other? OT5 is alive, bitches!!_

 

sandysand • 10 minutes ago

_is it just me or are liam and louis attached at the hip lately? I know they’re roommates right now but it seems like they’re never apart._

 

bayareagirl • 9 minutes ago

_sandysand what are you implying? Ive stayed with my friends at the hospital before. And Liam doesnt have family in LA or a steady girlfriend_

 

sandysand • 5 minutes ago

_@bayareagirl just saying…_

 

brazilianliam • 1 minute ago _  
who tf is Serena Savedra??????_

 

/

 

Liam likes being taken care of, but he hates being helpless, so he teeters back and forth between being grateful to Louis -- who is an endlessly devoted nurse and obvious oldest child -- and desperately wishing that he could get better already so Louis no longer has to see to most of his needs.

Louis insists on fetching everything for him, steadying him when he stands, and dogs his steps like a border collie. He is single-mindedly obsessed with keeping Liam occupied with activities that can be done from bed, to the point that he helps Paddy lug a keyboard and guitar up to their room on the second floor so they can work on songs without Liam having to lift a finger. A lot of the lyrics Louis writes during these sessions are dark, nasty and distinctly Weezer-inspired. Liam says nothing of it, but he suspects Zayn is the cause.

They haven’t discussed Zayn yet. Louis seems to have chosen not to battle him on the fact that he had invited Zayn to the hospital without warning him, which is a relief. He was morphine-addled when he did it, but he’s got to admit a significant part of him wanted to force a conflict so they could get that much closer to reconciliation.

On Wednesday, he wakes to Louis quietly swearing.

He opens his eyes and sits up a bit to see Louis, wearing a tank top and sweating in the heat of the room as he struggles to fold the keyboard’s legs under it.

“Sorry, lad,” Louis mutters, and with a great sigh he lets the keyboard crash unceremoniously to the ground. “Fuck it. This is driving me barmy.”

“I think you might be a bit stir crazy,” Liam says, yawning. Louis looks good and well-muscled. His fringe is falling attractively into his eyes, and Liam can smell his sweat in the air.

He’s sex-deprived, and he can’t help but imagine Louis writhing and moaning underneath him. His cock throbs, and he sucks in air in pain. Hard-ons don’t agree with the catheter.

“What’s wrong?” Louis says, coming closer.

“Go away,” Liam says in a panic. Louis stops and tilts his head in puzzlement. “No, sorry, that’s not what I mean. I mean you’re -- I’ve got a bit of morning wood and you’re getting me more hard and with the catheter, it hurts like hell --”

Louis grins wickedly at him. “Really? I feel so powerful.”

“Get out of here,” Liam says, sternly. “I mean it, Louis.”

“Do you, daddy?” Louis says coyly, dropping to his hands on the bed.

Liam feels a stab of stomach-curdling disgust, mixed with a bit of guilty arousal he has no desire to admit to. He leans back against the pillows. “Well, that killed it.”

Louis pouts at him. “Seriously?”

“When have I ever entertained your daddy thing?”

“There’s a first time for everythin’,” Louis says, getting back up. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“I can and I will, Tommo.”

 

/

 

On Thursday, Liam is catheter-free and well enough to limp around with the aid of Vicodin. Everyone comes to the Marmont so he doesn't have to travel, and they throw a small party outside by the pool and under the shade of trellises. Niall shows up with a motley entourage of golfers, female session musicians, and the more likable half of 5SOS. He also brings a crate of champagne. Juicy J brings his crew and a massive chocolate and buttercream cake for Liam that spells out “RIP DJ Payno’s dick” in liquer-soaked strawberries.

“My dick is fine!” Liam keeps assuring everyone. “No harm done!”

Harry shows up fashionably late and already drunk, looking tan and smiley. He and Louis quickly gravitate to each other, both feeling slightly out of place among the revelry, and they steal away to talk.

“You look preoccupied,” Harry remarks to him as he examines a slice of mango. The hotel sent down some complimentary room service for the party. Louis’ appetite is still off, and he keeps pushing the same bit of falafel around his plate.

“I'm alright,” Louis says. “Liam's having fun.”

Liam is across the patio, sunk very comfortably into a couch and laughing as a cute gay actor friend of Harry’s chats him up. Louis can't hear what they're saying, and he doesn't like that. He finds himself wondering if this bloke is more conventionally handsome than he is, and shakes his head ever so slightly at how ridiculous that thought is.

“But is _Louis_ having fun,” Harry intones, like its deep of him to say.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Louis is having as much fun as he can, under the general circumstances.”

He sets his plate aside and turns to Harry, shading his eyes from the sun. Harry squints at him.

“So what’s it like being out?” Louis says. “Now that you've had a bit of time to process.”

Harry looks away, into the distance.

“It’s strange,” Harry says. “I feel like I’m walking in a dream, sometimes. I keep panicking when someone mentions it to me… I’m so used to keeping it a secret.”

Then he smiles.

“But it’s good,” he says. “I feel so loose and free... I feel, like, younger. I don’t think I realized how much it wore me down. I thought it was fine because I was out to my family, my friends, my team, that that was what really mattered. But the way you’re seen as you move in the world, that matters too. Not having to hide... it matters. For all the awful things a handful of people have said, a lot more people have been kind, you know, and loving.”

“Well, everyone loves you,” Louis says. It’s a statement of fact, not an accusation.

Harry’s lips quirk to the side in an expression that’s not quite a smile. 

Louis looks back at Liam. He’s laughing again.

“Do you think Liam’s actually bisexual?” he says.

Harry shrugs. “He might be, a bit. Don’t know if he got much of a chance to find out, all these years.”

A bitter feeling sweeps over Louis and he looks at the ground, elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “I don’t think I am,” he says.

“That’s okay,” Harry says. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t explain that to anyone,” Louis mutters. “I told you how Lottie confronted me about him… Us, I mean. I talked to her more yesterday, and she didn’t even think it was weird, that he’s the only man I’ve felt like this about. It’s normal to her.”

“She’s younger,” Harry says. “They’re different. Even just a few years younger… it’s quite different. They don’t like labels as much.”

“I like knowing what things are,” Louis says stubbornly. “I like knowing where I stand.”

Harry shrugs. “You love him. It’s alright if that’s all you know.”

“Why him?” Louis says. “Why not… I dunno. Anyone else.”

Harry’s foot shifts on the stone patio. “Matters of the heart,” he says. “They aren’t a science.”

“But how aren’t they? ‘S’all… electrical impulses, innit?”

Harry smiles. “Dunno... I like to think there’s a bit more to it than that. And maybe it’s just part of who you are, that you fit together well enough that you can be with him in spite of it.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing though,” Louis says. “I like that he’s manly. Just on _him_ , though, y’know what I mean?” He sits up. “Alright, I’ve had too much to drink.”

It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “You can discuss this with me. I’m quite qualified, I promise.”

Louis looks away from him again. “Yeah, but it’s… _you_ , y’know? It’s complicated.”

“I’m tired of it being complicated,” Harry says. “I’m tired of Larry intruding on us, I’m tired of it getting in the way of me being out. And I hate what happened to us, I really do.”

Louis feels a lump developing in his throat and he swallows around it. “You know I do too.”

“Then tell me what you were going to say.”

Someone jumps into the pool with a massive splash, disturbing Louis’ reverie. Everyone cheers, including Liam, who catches Louis’ eye and motions for him to come over. Louis gives him the “one minute” finger. Liam flaps his hand dismissively and returns to his conversation.

“This is why people think we’re together,” Louis says. “Because there’s a whole fucking party of people and we’re squirreled away in the corner talking about how gay we are.”

Harry has a good laugh at that.

“I like Liam’s manliness,” Louis says, and blows out a breath full of air. “I want to kick my own arse for saying that sentence out loud.”

“That sounds quite difficult,” Harry remarks. “I think you might pull a hamstring, kicking your own arse.”

“You know what I mean, Harold.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oi!” Luke Hemmings shouts from where he’s standing at the pool’s edge in trunks. “Louis! Stop being boring!”

“I’m not,” Louis protests, sipping his champagne. “I’m drinking.”

“Bo- _ring_ ,” Liam calls. “Harry, you too!”

A few people boo fondly at them. Louis puts his middle finger up and rotates it panoramically for the benefit of everyone.

“I guess that puts an end to that,” he says, getting up.

Harry grabs his arm as he’s walking away. “Listen… talk to me about this whenever you want,” he says, giving Louis a very intent look. “I mean it. I've said it before, you need someone to talk to that isn’t Liam.”

Louis looks at him and nods. “Right. I… yeah. Alright.”

 

/

 

“Did you think he was handsome?” Louis asks Liam on the plane back to London.

Liam is sitting across from him, leaning back in his seat and close to dozing off. “Huh?” he says, sleepily.

Louis sets his phone down and chews at his lip. “The actor you were talking to, Harry’s friend. I know he’s gay. I sort of got the impression he was lingerin’ round you.”

Liam snorts. “Noo, he just thought I was funny.”

“Did he?” Louis says, lifting his eyebrows.

Liam looks at him, lost for words, making that sound people make when they’re getting defensive. “I -- I -- Louis, where is this coming from? I wasn’t attracted to him.”

Louis folds his arms. He feels himself getting pouty and fights it valiantly. “I dunno, I just… I s’pose I got a little jealous, watching you. I miss when we didn’t have so much to be worried about. I don’t want us to be like, this stressed out long-term couple who spends all their time fightin’ the world and doesn’t have anythin’ good left for each other. That’s not us, y'know? We've let it happen with girlfriends, we can't let it happen with us --”

“Louis… c’mere.”

Louis looks up at him from under his fringe, recalcitrant.

Liam gives a sigh and beckons him. Louis gets up and comes over to him, settling onto his lap.

“I wasn’t attracted to him,” Liam says firmly, rubbing his back. “I wasn’t, love, I promise. I noticed he was handsome, but that’s it. I’m not getting comfortable, alright? I think about you all the time, you still drive me mad. It’s been torture to not be able to be intimate with you, you know that, don’t you?”

Louis presses his face to the crook of Liam’s neck. He tries to speak a few times, but nothing sensible seems to want to come out. Finally he swallows and says, “I’ve had a hard time lately.”

Liam’s quiet for a moment, and he strokes the back of Louis’ head. Louis feels better just having said it, and he lets himself be enveloped by the warmth of Liam and the tender care with which he touches Louis. That and the soft hum of the plane conspire to lull him into sleepiness.

“I know,” Liam says. “I know you have.”

“I made up with your mum, at least,” Louis murmurs.

“No, I know. Thank God.”

“It was properly the worst thing she could have said to me,” Louis says, and Liam holds him tighter. “That I’m… _bad_ , like.”

“You’re not bad,” Liam says, his voice forceful. “You’re not, you’re _not,_ she never meant that, Louis, I promise you. Please don’t ever think that.”

Louis’ eyes get hot. He kisses Liam’s neck.

“You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me,” Liam says, continuing to stroke his hair.

Louis’ heart feels overfull, and he can’t wipe the stupid smile off his face. He fists his hand in Liam’s shirt. “Shut _up_ ,” he says, laughing. “You hated me when we first met!”

“What, this again? I thought you were always taking the piss! I thought you didn’t like _me!”_

“Of course I liked you! That’s why I took the piss out of you!”

“So you were, like… Pulling my pigtails, then.”

“Exa-actly… And it only took us five years to catch on.”

They lapse into silence, gazing at each other warmly. Liam continues to stroke Louis’ lower back in circles with his thumb.

“But like, an’ then…” Louis clears his throat. “Simon, and that meeting, that fucking godforsaken meeting -- and I had all this shit planned for your birthday, an’ _then_... “

“Sorry for my kidney stone,” Liam says, and he’s so earnest about it that Louis starts laughing.

“Not your fault,” Louis says, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “You just gave us a scare, is all.”

“Right, well, I didn’t want to,” Liam says.

Louis kisses him.

“Not too much, now,” Liam murmurs. “I’m still sore.”

“Mmm,” Louis says, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Louis, I mean it...”

Louis presses his tongue into Liam’s mouth. Liam turns his head away to break the kiss, but he’s grinning.

“Stop,” he admonishes, but his heart obviously isn’t in it. “You can stay on my lap, if you like.”

“Can I?” Louis says playfully, and rolls his hips. “Can I stay on your lap, lad?”

“Uh, maybe not, then!” Liam exclaims. “Why are you so, like, _Wolf of Wall Street_ lately?”

“I’m not the one who’s seen that film _eighteen_ times, and anyway, we’ve had sex on planes before, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, but my willy was fully functional for those.”

“I’ll kiss it and make it better,” Louis says, with a wicked smile. Liam laughs but pushes him off his lap, and scoots over to make room for him.

They sit side by side, catching up on texts and playing footsie. Louis lets his head drop to Liam’s shoulder, and he falls asleep that way.

Just before he dozes off, he feels Liam shifting, and then a blanket settling on top of them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis gives Liam the significant gift and tops him for the first time.

For Liam’s birthday, Louis has rented out the entirety of a riverside restaurant in London that’s just opened as of a few weeks ago. He scoped it while it was still under construction, and liked the view of the Thames and the pissy French head chef enough to put down a reservation. He’s had a bottle of Armand de Brignac chilling in the restaurant’s Sub-Zero for the last few weeks.

Paddy is on duty for the ride over; when Louis first mentioned the night’s plans, he expressed confusion.

“You’re just going out to dinner? Alone? Together?”

“That’s what we’re doing,” Louis said, and looked him dead in the eye, wondering if he’d dare to ask. But Paddy just shook his head and laughed.

Louis insists on blindfolding Liam for the ride over. Liam protests as he slips it on, but he knows better than to try to argue with Louis.

“I thought you liked being blindfolded,” Louis murmurs as soon as the partition goes down.

Liam laughs and goes a little pink. “Not in the _car_...”

“Where d’you think I’m taking you?”

Liam falls silent and rubs his hands together, thinking. Large properties are passing by in the window, steadily giving way to the city as they get closer to the river.

“Dunno,” Liam says. “Dinner, right?”

“Well, obviously.”

“Have you got something for me?” Liam says, fishing in that hopeful way of his.

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, it’s only your _birthday_. ‘Course I do.”

“Did you just roll your eyes?”

Louis squints at him and leans forward to fix the blindfold. Liam grabs his wrist and wrestles him away.

“It’s on tight enough, Tommo!”

“How could you tell, then?” Louis demands.

“Please, I can hear it in your voice by now.”

“Oh, clever,” Louis says in that coquettish way of his, and since he’s leaning into Liam’s space anyway, he strokes his thigh. “You ought to take that act on the road.”

“It must be small,” Liam says, ignoring his attempts at distraction. “Whatever it is. You didn’t carry anything with you.”

Louis feels in his pants pocket to make sure the gift’s still there. “Right in one.”

“Now I’m thinking of small things,” Liam says. His lips curve upward in a smile, lighting up his face despite his eyes being hidden away. He looks good; Louis picked out a deep red v-neck for him to wear and told him he liked seeing him in red. Liam was tickled by that. He’s endearingly easy to please.

“Think of one regular-sized thing,” Louis says.

Liam’s eyebrows knit. “As my present?”

“No,” Louis says, chuckling. “Well, aye, sort of. A present for later.”

“Ohh,” Liam says, and he nods. “ _That_.”

“Yeah, that. You up for it?”

Liam smiles again, and reaches out for Louis’ hand. Louis grabs it and squeezes.

“Depends,” Liam says. “Are you going to be romantic with me?”

“I’ll treat you like a prince, nothing less.”

“Will you be patient?”

“Not a strength of mine, really, but yeah. For you, yeah.”

“Can I have a lot of wine at dinner?”

“As much as you like.”

Liam strokes Louis’ thumb with his finger, and bites his lip. Louis wishes he could see his eyes.

“I think I’d like that, then,” Liam says, with a boyish nervousness in his voice that Louis finds immensely charming. “Yeah, let’s give it a go.”

“Good,” Louis says, trying not to sound as excited as he is.

 

/

 

They flirt madly all through dinner. Louis gets a little thrill from how brazen he can be, with the waitstaff as legally pinned as he’s got them. When Liam orders his entree, Louis holds his hand across the table the entire time, just to be a twat and make it harder for him to hand the menu back.

Liam orders a softshell crab sandwich and uses it to make fun of Louis, who doesn’t like any part of the concept.

“It’s creepy,” Louis protests. Liam tears a leg off the crab and flings it at him. He ducks, and makes a loud noise of disgust that sends a waiter running over to check on them and refill their wine. Liam laughs his head off.

“You’re a monster, Payno,” Louis grumbles. “Flinging legs at your man.”

“Please, you little demon!” Liam exclaims. “Everything you’ve got up to for the past five years… Hitting me in the dick for all of OTRA. I’m surprised it hadn’t fallen right off by October.”

“Wouldn’t have wanted it to,” Louis says, grinning.

“Right, the only reason you didn’t hit me harder, I bet.”

“Aye, there it is.”

“Tearing my shirt open,” Liam says, and now he’s smiling too as he pulls some extra lettuce off his sandwich and sets it aside. “Kissing me.”

“Now who’s talking rubbish? It’s you who kissed _me_.”

“Not when it was for real,” Liam says, and looks up at him with eyes that are warm and liquid from alcohol. Louis’ heart stirs in his chest. “That was all you, my boy.”

Louis breaks his gaze, feeling his face warm up. “Well. Someone had to do somethin’ _,_ ” he murmurs.

Liam holds his glass up and Louis follows suit.

“To doing something,” Liam says.

“To your birthday,” Louis corrects.

“To both,” Liam says, and they clink glasses.

Louis turns and motions for the waiter to bring out the champagne. His palms begin to sweat as he slides a finger in his pocket, running it over the small box inside.

“Right,” he says. “So, gift one… the gift that’s not my cock.”

“Oh,” Liam pouts. “You’re not going to whip it out at the table?”

The waiter reaches their table in time to hear the tail end of this, and gives a valiant attempt at keeping a straight face that would rival the Queen’s Guard. He pours fast and hurries away.

“Well, the night’s young, but anyway,” Louis says. “And, I’d like to say first off, it’s not exactly what you’re going to think it is.”

Liam looks at him quizzically. The sun is setting over London outside the window, and his face is cast in a warm peachy glow. “What am I going to think --”

Louis pulls a Cartier ring box from his pocket.

Liam closes his eyes, all color draining from his face. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

“I _said_ \--”

“I know, I know! Just -- seeing you pull a fucking ring out of your pocket, is all --”

“You haven’t even seen the ring!” Louis says. “It’s just a box!”

“I know,” Liam says, opening his eyes and laughing from tension, “it’s -- the champagne, and everything --”

“It’s your _birthday_ , of course there’s champagne!”

“Please, just hand over the box,” Liam says, holding his hand out. “Jesus Christ, Tommo.”

“When I’m really proposing, it’ll be far more romantic,” Louis tells him, as he complies.

A smile plays at Liam’s lips as he takes the box. He glances up at Louis. “When,” he murmurs.

“Right, that’s what I said,” Louis says confidently, as if his heart isn’t thundering away in his chest. “Open the fuckin’ -- just open it, will you?”

Liam does so.

“Oh my God,” he says, very softly, as he picks the signet ring up and weighs it in his hand. “This is incredible, Louis.”

Louis tilts his chin up as his chest swells with pride and relief. “Yeah?”

“Jesus, yeah. It’s so heavy!”

“Right, it should be, it cost a bloody fortune.”

“Is it bespoke?”

“Yeah, I designed it,” Louis says, taking a sip of champagne. “Gold, meteorite and sapphire. And in the center, the meteorite part, you can probably tell, but it’s a crest-style lion --”

“It’s fantastic,” Liam says. He has a gaze of wonder and a small smile; the irrepressible indicators of a gift well received. “Which finger?”

“It’s sized for your ring finger. Either hand,” Louis says.

Liam looks up at him from under his eyelashes and after a moment, slides it onto his left hand and examines it.

“It’s exactly the sort of thing I’d pick out for myself,” he says.

“Turn your hand over,” Louis instructs him, and his nerves spike again.

Liam does so and Louis watches as he squints to read the engraving on the band.

“ _The L of my L_ ,” he says aloud. “Oh my _God_ , Tommo.”

“I know.”

“That is so…” Liam shakes his head. He looks overcome. “Unbelievably soppy.”

“I know,” Louis says, laughing and wiping his sweaty hands on his pants yet again.

“And it’s a play on words, even. Did Harry help you design it or something?”

“Alright, one,” Louis holds a finger up, “you know I like that sort of thing as well, and two, on what planet am I cracked enough to take Harold out with me ring shopping at Cartier? I wouldn't even take Oli if he knew.”

“Fair point…” Liam grins and grins. “You get after _me_ for being a hopeless romantic, and you --”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I know!”

“You’re a massive sop,” Liam says. “Holy shit. Come here, I want to kiss you.”

Louis gets up and comes over to him, and takes a seat on his lap. They smile at each other, and Liam kisses his nose.

“I measured your ring finger while you were asleep,” Louis confesses. “Didn’t want to ask and give you a hint.”

Liam wraps his arms around him and strokes his back. “I love you for that.”

“It looks good on your hand,” Louis says. “It’s sexy, like. Very sharp.”

“It really is perfect, honestly,” Liam says, proudly holding his hand out to examine it. He reminds Louis of a woman showing off a diamond ring. “So what does it mean?”

Louis shrugs. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

Liam snorts. “Come off it.”

“I was thinking, I s’pose, like… pre-engagement,” Louis says. “Like, it’s a symbol of commitment, really.”

Liam’s quiet for a bit, and Louis strokes his hair. It’s soft, and he’s got a product in that smells like oranges.

“Is this because of my meltdown the other week?” Liam finally says. “It must be, right? You basically engraved what I said on there.”

Louis smiles. “Don’t know if I’d call it a proper meltdown.”

“I was a bit over the top.”

“A bit. But, look -- I had this idea for you for a while before that.”

Liam looks at him. His eyes are twinkling. “You know, the royals wear signet rings instead of wedding rings.”

Louis kisses him on the bow of his lips. He tastes like champagne and a bit like remoulade sauce. “I did know that, love, yeah.”

The sun is almost down now. They sit there kissing until it’s tucked itself below the horizon and darkness is spreading across the London sky, as their champagne goes flat and the rest of the food goes cold.

 

/

 

By the time they get home it’s begun to storm, and rain patters at the windows. Louis rummages around in his kitchen for candles. Liam waits in the doorway, arms folded, looking apprehensive.

“I swear I have some here,” Louis complains.

“We already had cake and candles at my parents’ the other day,” Liam says, examining his nails.

“Not _birthday_ candles, wazzock, romance candles. Sexy candles. With scents and the like.”

“Ohh! Those are in the pantry.”

Louis throws his hands up. “And I’ve just spent ten minutes looking!”

“Tommo, relax. I thought you had another cake for me or something.”

Louis grumbles wordlessly as he walks into the pantry and claps the light on.

“Hey,” Liam calls to him. “Harry’s just texted into the group, he wants us all to meet with him and Jeff on Jeff’s yacht tomorrow.”

Louis knocks a box of tinfoil onto his foot. “Ow,” he mutters. “What, for like, a business chat?”

“Well, yeah, sounds like it.”

“Christ. This is moving right along, isn’t it?”

“It’s just one meeting,” Liam calls.

“We’ll see... Alright,” Louis says as he unearths some woodsy scented candles. “We’re set. Let’s get upstairs before we fall asleep.”

“It wouldn’t be _terrible_ to just go to sleep,” Liam says, as Louis herds him upstairs. “We’ve had a long week.”

“No, but it’d make me feel elderly.”

They get into bed and undress each other in a reverent and careful way that they haven’t taken the time for in a while. Louis feels like they’re going to rediscover each other a bit tonight, and he’s excited. He loves the narrative of a long relationship; how there’s always room for revelations, how you circle back to tread the same ground again and again, discovering new things each time.

Liam has a nervous energy to him that Louis finds deeply appealing. He keeps seeking out reassuring touches from Louis, and Louis gives them to him freely, stroking him all over and cupping his face. Liam looks up at him with dark, trusting eyes, and Louis gets harder.

The storm continues to batter the house. Louis finds the lube in the bedside drawer, and sets it on the bed next to them. He no longer feels sleepy at all. His entire body hums with purpose.

Liam lies back against their pillows.

“How much does it hurt?” he says, after a moment.

Louis shakes his head. “Bit of a burn at first. Nothing unbearable. And I’m not as big as you.”

Liam falls silent. Louis grips his thighs with each hand, and Liam reaches up to stroke his half-hard cock.

“I’ve always thought your willy’s pretty,” Liam murmurs. “It’s the perfect shape.”

Louis snorts. “Please...”

“No, I mean it. It’s like a drawing out of a health textbook. Mine’s a wee bit crooked...”

“I’ve noticed,” Louis says, grinning, and he tweaks the head of Liam’s. “It’s cute.”

“Are you going to finger me now?” Liam says, dropping his head back and looking up at him.

“If you want me to.” Louis shrugs, keeping a lid on his excitement.

“I do,” Liam says softly, running the hand with the ring up and down Louis’ hip. “Sooo… get on with it.”

Louis starts off with one index finger. Liam sucks in air and grips the bedspread.

“It’s one finger, lad,” Louis reminds him, stroking his face with his free hand. “You’ve had more.”

“It’s just the idea,” Liam says, relaxing his hands. “Of what’s coming, I mean.”

“It’s good, I promise.”

“Well, it is for _you_.”

“Right, but I had to let you do it first for me to know that, didn’t I? And I wasn’t too sure about it to start with, remember.”

“I s’pose.”

“Should I stop?” Louis says, and stills his hand.

“No, no,” Liam insists, shifting down on the bed a little. There’s pink high in his cheeks from the wine, and his hair is mussed. “Keep at it. Get at my prostate, I do know I like that.”

Louis laughs. “Alright, love.”

He fingers Liam open, paying laser-focused attention to his body language and the soft noises that come out of him so he can tell what angle is best for him. Finally he hits a spot that makes Liam writhe, arch his back and let out a gasp, so he keeps at it and adds a second finger.

“Louis, Louis,” Liam whispers, gripping the sheets even harder. “Yeah.”

Louis leans down as he fingers him and kisses down Liam’s abs to his hipbone. “Yeah?” he says quietly, and starts moving his fingers harder and faster. Liam makes a choked noise.

“Good,” he exclaims.

After a while of this, arousal is building uncomfortably in Louis. Liam takes a third and fourth finger easily and encourages him onward with moans and quiet yesses, his strong body going pliant under Louis as his muscles slowly ease and relax.

Finally Louis looks up at Liam, who is breathing heavily with his eyes closed, sweaty of forehead and still clutching at the sheets as Louis’ deft little fingers move against his prostate.

“Liam,” he says. “Want me inside you now?”

“Yes,” Liam moans. “Yes, yeah, please.”

Louis gets full-body tingles at how eager he sounds. He gets himself into position between Liam’s legs.

“You look good like this,” he murmurs.

Liam opens his eyes slightly. They’re brightly dark under the fan of his lashes. He gazes raptly at Louis.

Louis guides himself into Liam, his other hand palm down on the bed next to Liam’s ribs. As he slides in, Liam inhales sharply and grabs him hard by the hair, which he can’t help be turned on by.

“You’re fine,” Louis reassures him.

“I didn’t think it’d feel like that,” Liam says softly.

“Should I stop?”

“Don’t stop. Just…” Liam looks a little helpless for a moment. “Could you kiss me?”

“Of course, love,” Louis says, and he drops against Liam so they’re chest to chest. Liam slides down on the bed so that Louis can reach his lips, and as Louis pushes into him fully they share a long, lingering kiss.

Liam wraps a hand around his waist and digs his fingers into Louis’ side. “Go on,” he urges.

Louis gets going again. He’s very slow and deliberate, matching the tempo of his hips with the length of his kisses. He makes love to Liam, enjoying his soft gasps and moans, and the quavers of his lips and chest.

“I love you,” Louis murmurs as they’re cheek to cheek, breathing each other’s air, and Liam sucks in a breath and grabs him by the hair on the back of his head. His other hand slides up Louis’ sweaty back and he grazes his nails over him slightly on the way there. Louis feels a pleasant pulse in his cock and he groans.

“I love you,” Liam moans back, “God, Louis --”

Louis doesn’t think he can hold out very long; Liam is fairly tight, and he was quite hard before he even got into him.

He kisses him again, sucking on his bottom lip, and Liam runs his hands all through Louis’ hair until it’s likely standing on end. He rests a hand against the back of Louis’ neck, squeezing slightly with each thrust of Louis’.

“Can I come in you? Or d’you want me to pull out --”

“In me is good,” Liam says, his eyelids fluttering. “Are you there?”

“I’m close.”

“Same here...”

Louis reaches down feels Liam’s cock for the first time; he’s dripping.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, starting to stroke him as he thrusts.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Liam assures him.

The band of the signet ring bumps against the bone at the top of Louis’ spine and he smiles. A few moments later he feels a clench in him and then a release; he lets out a groan that trails off into a sigh and settles on top of Liam, who rolls them together onto their sides and pulls Louis close, his face buried against Louis’ neck.

They lie there, breathing together. Louis thinks he could go to sleep right then and there, but he hasn’t even pulled out of Liam yet. Liam’s breathing is shaky and he’s holding onto Louis as tight as he can.

“You good, Payno?” Louis murmurs, stroking his hair and leaning back so he can look at him. Liam looks sated. His eyelids are heavy and his cheeks and lips are still flushed.

“I’m _very_ good,” Liam says in a throaty voice. “It's just intense, is all. I didn't realize.”

“I s’pose the first time especially,” Louis says. “Letting someone inside you like that.”

“You’re good at it,” Liam says fondly, smoothing his fringe back off his face. “Honestly, you are.”

“Ha, really?” Louis says, grinning and leaning into his touch. “Sick.”

Liam chuckles and presses his nose to Louis’ hairline, breathing in deep. Louis reaches down and jerks Liam off the rest of the way; Liam comes with a pleased moan and a shiver all over Louis’ thighs.

“We’ve wrecked these sheets,” Louis notes.

“Shower,” Liam says, sounding fucked out of his mind. “I need… shower. But…”

“Getting up?”

“That is the problem, yes.”

After a bit more bitching about it, they do get in the shower. They spend the entire time shoved up against a wall, snogging as the hot water pours over them.

Louis waits until they’re back in bed, cuddled warmly together before he says, “The other day... why didn’t you warn me about Zayn?”

Liam tenses up. He strokes Louis’ bicep. “Ahhh… I was pretty loopy when I texted him.”

“Right, but you weren’t completely _gone_.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam confesses. He kisses the crown of Louis’ head. “I fucked up. It was stupid, I should have said something, I should have run it by you first.”

“We did have a talk,” Louis says, surprising himself with how chilly he sounds. “Me and him. Guess you got what you wanted.”

“Love, I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize,” Louis murmurs. “I know it’s hard for you, being in the middle. But I’m the priority, alright?”

“No, of course. Always, always.”

“I’ll try and make it work, with ‘im… you’ve got to understand, though, that maybe it won’t.”

“I know. I’ve known that.”

“As long as you know.”

Liam nuzzles his hair.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff Azoff meets with the boys to discuss the future of the band. Liam reassures Harry that his relationship with Louis is not going to negatively impact their music.

The sun hangs high in the sky, and the wind is merciless, whipping Harry’s hat off his head so he has to chase it across the deck of the boat. Jeff and Niall laugh at him as he collapses across the seat of a lounge chair to snatch it from mid-air.

“Good save,” Jeff calls.

“Yes, I’m quite the ballerina,” Harry demurs.

The three of them arrived right around noon, the agreed-upon time. Liam and Louis are late. Jeff walks them into the conference room in the middle of the boat, where he’s got folders of paperwork and notes spread out and an assistant milling around.

“Please, have a seat, boys,” he says. “I’m sure they won’t be long. Anyone want coffee? Water? Iced tea?”

“Iced tea’s fine,” Niall says. He stretches his legs out under the table and gives Harry a significant glance.

Harry turns to Jeff. “So… do we have to be so business-like today?” he says, scratching nervously at the inside of his wrist.

“Yes,” Jeff says simply. “Yeah, we do. I don’t want to go into this lightly. I think we should be prepared for a long conversation, today.”

“In _that_ case,” Niall says, with a stretch and a yawn, “let’s make it cup of coffee for me.”

Harry hears faint voices and footsteps outside the cabin. The footsteps stop for a moment, and the voices continue, loudly enough that he recognizes them as Louis and Liam. He wonders what they’re discussing.

“Niall,” Jeff says.

Niall laces his hands together and looks at him like he’s a student. “Yes Jeff.”

“You’ll go where the others go, I assume.”

Niall shrugs. “I’ll leave Modest if they do, aye. Not so sure I’ll go where they go.”

“Meaning Full Stop?” Jeff says. “You’re not sure about joining us?”

“I have other stuff on me mind, y’know,” Niall says. “Nothing against you all. But Louis does too. We both manage talent now, under Modest. We’ve got to go where that can be best accommodated…”

Harry hears Louis laugh, out on the deck.

“You want to go somewhere where the most clients of yours will follow,” Jeff says. “Because you’re guaranteed to lose some to Modest. Right, I understand, Niall.”

Niall worries at his lip with his teeth. “Maybe Louis and I’ll go with Irving?”

Harry looks at him in surprise. He hasn’t been apprised of this. “Really?” he says, feeling slightly crestfallen. He doesn’t want to hurt Jeff.

Jeff holds up a hand to still him. “I’d have no hard feelings if you did,” he says. “It might be a good idea, at least at first.”

“The label thing is what’s weighin’ on me mind more than anythin’,” Niall says. “That’s the big one. For us as a group, I mean.”

“Well, you can stay somewhere under Sony,” Jeff says. “No big deal to work that out, with as much time as we have on our hands. We can deal with that part more in the winter months, when we have a better idea of what your contracts for 2017 will look like. Especially if you’ll want to maybe start recording again that year. I have to talk to your legal --”

The door bangs open and Louis appears, then Liam behind him.

“Sorry for our tardiness,” Louis says, pulling up a chair and flinging himself into it. He’s in rare form, Harry can already tell. “Liam, he’s forgotten how to read the time.”

“I _told_ you we only had twenty minutes,” Liam says as he sits between Louis and Niall. “I was banging on the bathroom door!”

“Well, bang louder next time,” Louis says with a wink. He’s dressed down in a hoodie, while Liam is dressed more for business.

Niall laughs and Liam rolls his eyes. He folds his arms, and Harry spots a glint of gold on his left ring finger. He feels a jolt of surprise and squints at it, trying to ascertain what it is.

He looks up to catch Liam’s eye at the same time Liam realizes he’s looking, and he holds his hand up and points to his own ring finger to indicate, mouthing _What?_

Liam opens his mouth as if to explain.

“Don’t go reading too much into that, Harold,” Louis cuts in. He puts his feet up on the table. “Hey, love,” he addresses the assistant, “could I get a cup of water?”

“On the table, huh?” Jeff says, amused. “Do you do that in Modest meetings?”

“No, I do power sitting. But I like you, Jeff, I think we’re pals,” Louis says. He’s chewing gum and his eyes are flashing. Harry pities anyone who crosses him when he’s in a mood like this. “So I’m gettin’ comfortable.”

Jeff laughs. “Right on, Tomlinson.”

“Wait... yeah, what’s that on your hand, Leeyum?” Niall says, leaning forward.

“That’s what I wanted to know!” Harry says crossly.

“It’s not an _engagement_ ring,” Liam says, with his characteristic air of embattlement. “Let’s just get that out of the way.”

Harry shakes his head in confusion. “Explain?”

Louis inclines his head at him. “Later,” he mouths. Harry supposes there's no use arguing.

“Okay, business, business time,” Jeff says, looking like he’s wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into. “Personal stuff later.”

“Wait, wait,” Niall says, making a T with his hands like he’s a ref. “Got one thing I want to cover first. Harry, did you get the email yet? With the proofs from _Rolling Stone_?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry says, and he grins sheepishly. He’s quite proud of how they turned out.

“Well, let’s have ‘em!” Louis says, leaning forward with an expectant hand gesture.

Jeff lays his hands on the table and gives a very quiet sigh, then smiles. Harry glances at him apologetically, then hands his phone around the table so they can all look.

Leibovitz shot him on location in Holmes Chapel for about eight hours, but for the cover they chose a close-up of him seated in the grass under the viaduct with no shirt on and a rainbow flag wrapped around his shoulders. The shot is in black and white, and he’s laughing at something one of the crew said. He looks radiantly happy.

A grin grows on Niall’s face as he looks at it. “Lad… I love this,” he says quietly.

Harry’s heart swells.

“I like it too,” he says. They smile at each other.

Liam takes the phone, then, and he whistles. “Wow,” he says, reverently. “It's perfect. She nailed it.”

Louis looks at it from over his shoulder, and after the initial grin of approval, he goes through a complicated range of expressions. Harry guesses he knows what Louis is thinking; the same things went through his head when he first saw the photo. The two of them shoulder a burden no one else does; Harry had even worried Louis might hate the cover, might not be able to detach it in his mind from Larry incidents over the years.

Louis’ face ends up in a proud smile, though. “I love it,” he says. “‘S’exactly what it should be. Congratulations.”

Harry smiles back at him, relieved.

“I do talk about Larry...” he clears his throat. “In the interview.”

“Really,” Louis says, his brow creasing.

“We knew they would ask,” Jeff says. “For a lot of people, it was the first thing on their mind.”

“I don't go into it much,” Harry hurries to say.

“No, I know, lad, you never do,” Louis says.

“I've just got a bit about, y’know, how it made it harder to come out, harder to be bisexual in general...”

Louis nods. “Like I said in the meetin’, should actually be a proper nail in the coffin.”

“I think you an’ Liam bein’ confirmed for datin’ would be the final nail,” Niall observes, and takes a sip of his coffee.

Liam laughs nervously. Without looking at him, Louis reaches over the table and grabs his hand.

“That's a ways down the road,” Jeff assures them.

“Or never,” Louis offers.

Liam nods. Louis squeezes his hand, and Liam strokes his thumb over Louis’ knuckles, looking at him with a gentle smile of immense fondness. It's the sort of sweet, intimate interaction you’re guaranteed to feel lonely looking in on. Harry glances down and plays with the hem of his shirt.

“So before you came in,” Jeff says. “I was discussing with Niall the issue of talent you two manage. If they'll move with you, or not.”

“Aye, yeah, ‘s a problem,” Louis says. “A good portion of mine will stay with Simon. Not because they're like, awful scoundrels, it's just a safer bet. I'd do the same.”

“Well, we have time before next year,” Jeff says. He starts making notes. “Why don't you start working on them, prime them for the idea of leaving Modest? Charm them, utilize the fact that they trust and like you -- maybe more than they do Simon.”

Louis grins like a kid on Christmas. “Yeah, I'm up for it.”

“Excellent,” Jeff says, continuing to write in shorthand. “Niall, could I ask you to do the same?”

“My golfers might be a bit trickier, but aye. If we could just sort out who I’d actually be poachin’ ‘em for.”

“In due time,” Jeff says distractedly. “That's what today’s for.”

“Still can't believe we're just leaving like this,” Liam says softly, looking overwhelmed. "Like... that it's this easy."

Louis turns to him and beckons for him to bend down. Liam does, and he whispers something in his ear. They laugh a little, and Louis kisses Liam very briefly on the cheek.

Harry’s warmed by his affection for them, as individuals and as a nested little pair. He pretends he didn't notice, and focuses his attention on Jeff.

“I'm excited, honestly,” Niall says. He holds up his cup of coffee. “Toast?”

The rest of them hold up their water, and Jeff holds up his tea.

“To what, though, lad?” Louis says.

“New shit,” Niall says. “New contracts. New chapter. New Harry being out. New management. New ring on Liam. New tube-free cock for Liam --”

“I think we have the idea,” Liam interrupts.

They all toast.

“Is it like a pre-engagement sort of thing?” Niall says, tipping his head to look at Louis. “A promise ring? You're pinnin’ him as your steady?”

Louis winks and finger-guns him with one hand as Liam shakes his head in fond amusement.

“Jeff is trying to conduct a business meeting,” he says.

“By all means, get your business amongst yourselves out of the way first,” Jeff says, putting his hands up.

“Yeah, I wanted to know too,” Harry cuts in. “Don't be coy about these things, you're a whole half of the band.”

“Right,” Louis says. “Well, let's bring a new fifth on. Then we won't be half the band, we’ll all have less work, and Zayn’s ‘ead’ll explode.”

“I second the motion,” Niall says.

“Denied,” Harry declares. “Liam, back me up.”

“I'm with Harry on this one, boys, no more fifths,” Liam says. “We're a four-piece for life.”

“It is neater that way, innit?” Louis says, smiling.

“And what if they get married?” Harry says to Jeff, looking to him. He feels utterly unmoored from reality by even having to ask the question.

Jeff shrugs. “People get married, kiddo,” he says, calm as anything.

 

/

 

They break for a half hour in the middle of the afternoon. Liam's eyes are aching and going bleary from staring over legalese and old contracts. Louis leaves him to go give Jeff a hard time about something, and he goes to find Harry out on the deck.

Harry is standing in the shade of an awning, leaning over the railing and looking out at London. Liam sidles up beside him and bumps his elbow. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Harry mutters. “Getting to be a little much in there, don't you think?”

“I think Jeff is a bit overexcited,” Liam says, settling against the railing.

“Overzealous is the word.”

“Well, he stands to make quite a steal here.”

“I feel a little less special,” Harry admits. “Now that he's bringing you on. I liked being his whiz kid.”

“Oh, Haz, you'll always be his favorite, I'm sure. I think he's tired of Louis already, honestly.”

Harry has a good laugh at that. “Louis is riding him awfully hard.”

“Well, he does it all for us.”

“Right, that's why we love him.”

They fall into silence.

“It surprises me every time,” Harry admits. “That you two are properly in love. Watching you with each other, it's...”

“I'm sorry,” Liam says, despite knowing it isn't the right thing to say. He reaches for the phrase automatically sometimes.

Harry shakes his head. “I don't want you to be sorry for it. I just still wonder what it’s going to be like as a band.”

“We haven't changed much, have we?”

“But on tour?”

“Our tours won't be as bad this time round.”

“Still.”

Liam struggles for words. “It's better this way,” he finally says. “I just -- you don't know what it was like right before we got together. It wasn't good. We were growing apart from the strain. I need to be with him and he needs to be with me. It didn't used to be that way, but it's what's happened.”

“I know, I know,” Harry murmurs. He puts the tips of his fingers together and lets his head droop so the bridge of his nose is supported by his thumbs.

“It's hard work, but we're good at it,” Liam says. “It comes naturally to us, like the band does. And we'll always put the band first.”

“Will you? If it's destroying your relationship?”

“It never would,” Liam says vehemently. He knows the answer in his bones. “It built our relationship. If we can't write together, or plan together, work together -- we may as well not be together at all.”

Harry nods slowly with his brows knit, like he's understanding something. Somewhere out on the water, a gull cries. The wind continues to whip at them.

“I believe you,” Harry says. “Is that mad?”

“It's just trust, mate.”

“Not something I'm good at these days,” Harry murmurs. A little smile plays at his lips.

“I'm your oak,” Liam tells him, and strokes his arm. “I'm the centre, alright? All of you go ahead and orbit around me, ‘cos I'm here for good.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I know.”

Liam goes in to hug him, then, and they stand there for a moment. Liam feels some of the tension in Harry easing, so he squeezes him harder. Harry chuckles and wraps his arms around Liam.

Liam hears footsteps and then feels someone shorter wrapping their arms around both of them.

“No one informed me it was hugging time,” pipes up Louis’ voice. “You know I love hugs, you bastards.”

“How'd you even find us?” Liam says, amused.

“I've got hug radar. No, Jeff said to go round you all up.”

“Where's Niall?” Harry says, and draws back a little. “Oi! Niall!”

It takes a moment, but Niall comes around the corner, clucking his tongue. “A man can't have a moment of peace,” he says. “Hug?”

“Hug!” Louis insists, and Niall comes in and wraps his arms around all of them. They stand there like that for a moment, surely looking quite stupid, and then they let each other go.

“Let's get back to it, then,” Niall says.

One after another, they file back to the conference room.

Liam feels some dread as he spots the fresh set of paperwork laid out, but then Louis attempts to pants him as he walks by, and by the time he's chased him down and wrestled him into submission, he's all but forgotten it.

Jeff watches with a bit of amusement as they struggle with each other and then break apart, flushed and smiling. “So, is this always how it is?” he asks as they sit down.

“Yep,” Harry and Niall chorus.

“This is how it is,” Louis informs him.

Liam ducks his head so as not to laugh.

He does anyway, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst! if you want more, i am close to finishing another prequel for this series. it is slow burn about the weeks before lilo get together, and then louis making the first move. lots of pining!


End file.
